


The Selkie and the Cursed Prince

by MarshmallowMcGonagall, seaspoke, snapeislife (Horsy495)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of battle, Art, F/M, Fake Marriage, Grief, Huddling For Warmth, Isolation, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Selkies, SnapeBang, aftermath of war, living as muggles, oblivious idiots, recovering from a curse, there's only one bed, thunder storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23857540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowMcGonagall/pseuds/MarshmallowMcGonagall, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaspoke/pseuds/seaspoke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horsy495/pseuds/snapeislife
Summary: Snape is hit by a curse during the Battle of Hogwarts and he needs to go into isolation from the magical world if he's to have any hope of recovering. Despite people vouching for him, suspicions about his loyalties still abound and the Ministry needs someone to guard him while he's in the Muggle world. And so Tonks finds herself stuck on an island in the Hebrides with Snape, where they are forced to live as Muggles in a cottage with only one bed. While the locals joke that Tonks is a selkie whose cloak Snape has taken, the former lovers haven't seen each other for a year, and the aftermath of their secret relationship is put under more pressure when they are welcomed to the village as newlyweds because the Ministry is tracking Tonks with a charmed wedding ring. The war is over but Snape and Tonks are both convinced they're still enemies and they've got to survive each other for a month.A collaboration for SnapeBang 2019: fic by MarshmallowMcGonagall, art by seaspoke (ensnapingthesenses) and Horsy495 (snapeislife).
Relationships: Severus Snape/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 22
Kudos: 36
Collections: Snape Bigbang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to the mods for organising the big bang!
> 
> Fic by MarshmallowMcGonagall ([marshmallowmcgonagall](https://marshmallowmcgonagall.tumblr.com/)). Art in chapter 1 by seaspoke ([ensnapingthesenses](https://ensnapingthesenses.tumblr.com/)), and chapters 3 and 6 by Horsy495 ([snapeislife](https://snapeislife.tumblr.com/)).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations by both artists are on Tumblr, too, and can be found with links via [the Tumblr Masterpost](https://marshmallowmcgonagall.tumblr.com/post/616611783731560448/the-selkie-and-the-cursed-prince).

**1998**

**May 5th Tuesday**

**5am**

The castle wasn’t quiet. No longer filled by the noise of battle but by the noise of aftermath. Pieces of stone still crumbled from broken walls. The main structure was stable. But pebbles and dust, disturbed by doors being closed or the breeze through blown apart walls, would tumble through the air. There was debris everywhere. The ground littered with pieces of torn clothing, broken vials, splashes of potions, and blood. There was no escaping war in Hogwarts even with a victory.

The walking wounded returned to their families. The rest were split between St Mungo's, the hospital wing, and classrooms which escaped the carnage. Those who lost their lives were moved to where their loved ones could see them without witnessing where they fell. Even Voldemort’s body had been relocated to somewhere separate and secure. 

The Aurors were amongst the few who could cope with the aftermath. When Voldemort’s regime fell, the Ministry started to put itself back together immediately. Those who came out of hiding found their old colleagues, and after embraces which said everything they couldn’t say aloud, they got back to work. A skeleton crew of Aurors reassembled under Moody’s command while Kingsley was thrown into the position of interim Minister for Magic. The two Hufflepuffs hadn’t slept since the battle and neither had the Aurors who Moody and Kingsley walked towards.

The Aurors had been allowed 30 minutes each, in shifts, to see their loved ones then return to Hogwarts and to duty elsewhere. There were buildings to be cleared. Death Eaters to be transferred to Azkaban. People of questionable loyalties to deal with at the Ministry. There was work to be done, and the Aurors weren’t going to be stopped by a need for sleep when they were at last able to work free from Voldemort’s reign. They did concede to breaks, by the sheer need to stop and down the potions which were keeping them upright. It was during one of these breaks that a small group of Aurors watched Moody and Kingsley approach them. Moody carried an old leather holdall in one hand. And Kingsley, despite everything of the past few days, had a look of mild trepidation about him.

“Tonks,” said Moody. “Come with us.”

While Tonks got to her feet, Moody eyed up the rest of his Aurors, who were sporting a look he knew well. One which asked if they could come along and find out what was going to happen, because a good Auror ran towards trouble, not away from it.

“We only need Tonks,” said Kingsley.

Tonks stood awkwardly beside Moody and Kingsley. Her gaze kept drifting to the holdall. She could see the dents where it had been packed as full as possible and where the zip struggled to contain whatever was inside. The Ministry of Magic seal was embossed near the handles, and Tonks only recognised the worn edges of the outline because of her years spent going in and out of the Ministry. The rest of the Aurors looked at Kingsley. Despite being interim Minister for Magic, they all considered him to still be one of their own, and therefore weren’t going to heed his instructions. 

“Sit down,” barked Moody.

With disgruntled glances shot at Moody, the Aurors slumped back down where they were, but still leaned forward and craned their necks as Moody took Tonks by the elbow and led her away. Kingsley followed them, hands held behind his back. Disgruntled Aurors. Moody barking orders. Tonks stumbling on the flagstones and causing Moody to swear when she grabbed him. They had won the war. The curiosity and misbehaviour of the Aurors felt like the barest thread of ordinary life. Kingsley only hoped Tonks would forgive him and Moody for what they were about to throw her into. Her return to ordinary life was about to be delayed.

Moody led Tonks past the hospital wing and she glanced back when he turned down another corridor and she realised Kingsley wasn’t with them. Moody stopped and Tonks walked into him. While Moody lifted wards on a small door, Tonks looked around and saw Kingsley reappear with Madam Pomfrey beside him. Moody pushed the door open and Tonks turned to see what lay ahead.

The shutters on the window were closed and lamps lit the room. There was a bed in one corner and an armchair beside it. On the other side of the room was a chest of drawers. If Tonks hadn’t been so entirely distracted by the person in the bed, she would have recognised the former guest quarters. Moody pushed Tonks inside and she stumbled. When she regained her footing she walked across the room and stood at the bedside, only looking up when she heard Kingsley cough. Moody closed the door then joined Kingsley and Madam Pomfrey at the end of the bed.

Tonks’s gaze fell back to Snape who lay uncomfortably still on the bed. Tonks watched his chest, waiting to see a rise and fall. She kept doubting whether she saw him breathe, or if it was a trick of the light from the flickering lamps. Someone had put him in simple trousers and a top but he was still covered in black. She saw lots of people having their clothes ripped off them by Healers with no time for niceties. The people with ripped clothes looked somehow more alive. Tonks’s hand moved almost of its own accord until her fingertips brushed his ribs. When his body moved beneath her with the slightest breath, her gasp almost choked her.

“He’s alive,” said Moody.

Tonks jumped, stumbling back from the bed, eyes wide and crossing her arms as she looked anywhere but at the people who were watching her. They were all members of the Order, and there were touches of curiosity in their glances as they looked back and forth between Tonks and Snape.

Moody dropped the holdall on the floor. “You weren’t worried, were you?”

“No,” blurted out Tonks. “You would have said—it would have been news and people would have been talking—no, I wasn’t worried.”

She looked up and realised that in less than a minute, she gave up a secret she kept for two years. Her gaze returned to Snape and she chewed her lip.

“He’s been cursed,” said Kingsley.

Tonks nodded but didn’t look away from Snape.

“It’s an old curse and the Healers needed time to confirm what it is.”

“Is he going to die?” asked Tonks.

Madam Pomfrey crossed the room and pried Tonks’s hands from around herself. Tonks heard the shuffling of feet and rustling of fabric as arms were crossed.

“We’ve organised a plan which should ensure he doesn’t,” said Kingsley. “But we need to get him away from here.”

“Then why—” said Tonks.

“Because it’s not that simple,” said Moody, shooting a glance at Kingsley. “And he could still die.”

Tonks let slip a small whimper of pain.

“Enough,” said Madam Pomfrey. “To practice magic around Severus now is to harm him. It’s only because many of the Hogwarts wards and protections were damaged and destroyed that he wasn’t killed immediately.” She held Tonks’s hands in hers. “He needs to be isolated from the magical world to try and heal.”

“He’s going to need protection and, to begin with, looking after,” said Kingsley, “which is why you’re here.”

“Why me?” said Tonks.

“Because you’re the nice one,” said Moody. He looked her up and down. “Though now I think there may be other reasons as to why you’re the best person for the job.”

Tonks closed her eyes and bit her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood.

“I think I might be the worst person for the job,” said Tonks, her voice catching. She opened her eyes and smiled tightly.

“Everyone else would want to kill him,” said Moody. “He might have helped the Light but that doesn’t mean anyone could cope with him for a month.”

“A month?” exclaimed Tonks. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t kill him?”

Moody, Kingsley, and Madam Pomfrey had varying levels of success in suppressing their smiles.

“You’re one of the few who knows what it’s like to live as a Muggle,” said Kingsley. 

“Oh Merlin,” said Tonks, as the reality of what was facing her began to sink in. She shook her head and looked at Kingsley in disbelief. “I’d have to live as a Muggle?”

“No magic,” said Kingsley.

“Some magic,” said Moody, gruffly.

Kingsley shrugged and nodded.

“Some magic,” said Kingsley. “Basic wards when you arrive, you will need to do that.”

“Every bit of magic will affect him,” said Madam Pomfrey. “The more intense the magic, the bigger the immediate impact.”

“Which is why he’s going to get worse after you take the Portkey,” said Moody. He patted his robes and dug around in his cloak before tapping Kingsley on the arm. “Portkey?” Kingsley made a sound of agreement and reached into his robes to pull out a grey bundle.

“Worse?” said Tonks, letting go of Madam Pomfrey, and taking the bundle from Kingsley. “How can he get worse?”

“There’s no other way,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Apparition is too dangerous and to use some form of Muggle transport would mean a long journey through magical areas and he needs to be away from here as soon as possible.” She rubbed Tonks’s back. “He has a long road ahead of him, but if all goes as we hope, he should regain consciousness soon after leaving here because no matter what else has happened, the castle remains a stronghold of ancient magic.”

Tonks unravelled the bundle and found herself holding a grey shawl so large she could easily wrap it around herself. She could all but hide in it. She brushed her fingers across the slubs in the creased linen and looked up.

“He hasn’t been conscious?” said Tonks. “So he doesn’t know?”

“He’s been in and out a few times,” said Moody, “while Madam Pomfrey and Healers worked on him.”

“During which time the plan was mentioned and your name brought up,” said Kingsley.

“And?” said Tonks.

“Please don’t kill him,” said Kingsley, caught between amusement and real concern. 

Tonks swallowed back the threat of tears and did her best to smile. “I wouldn’t want to cause you more paperwork.” 

“He’s a war hero,” said Moody. “Harry’s vouched for him, Kingsley has seen some of the evidence, and there’s more to go through.”

“There will have to be a formal investigation,” said Kingsley, “but we’re working on the belief that he was on our side all along.”

“Where are we going?” said Tonks, finally admitting to herself that this was happening, likely whether she wanted it to or not. She slung the shawl around her shoulders and felt a strange comfort in the fabric between her fingers.

“A Ministry cottage in the Hebrides,” said Kingsley. “Hasn’t been used for years but it’s one of the old safe houses.”

“I went there earlier,” said Moody, “lifted all the magic on the place so it doesn’t kill him the moment you land.”

“No magic,” Tonks murmured again, and her gaze landed on the holdall. “We have to go now, don’t we?”

“As soon as possible,” said Madam Pomfrey.

“Despite protests from a St Mungo's Healer,” said Kingsley, “Moody is going to sort you out with an owl of your own and make sure you get the Daily Prophet delivered, too.”

“It’s traces of magic,” said Madam Pomfrey, “but we all agreed we could only ask so much of you.”

“And you’ll want to keep up to date with the investigations and news,” said Moody. “I’ll be keeping in touch, but the paper will give you everything else, though take it all with a pinch of salt depending on who’s reporting.”

“There's going to be a lot of speculation about him,” said Kingsley. “People will want to know where he’s gone.”

“Of course,” said Tonks, quietly.

“The Muggle Relations Department, well, what there is of it now,” said Moody, “put together a kit for you.” He nudged the holdall with his foot. “Standard in the field Auror supplies, Muggle money, clothes for you both and whatever else they thought you ought to have.”

He dug around in his robes and pulled out a set of keys and gave them to Tonks who slipped them in a pocket of her robes.

“And a letter,” said Kingsley. “I’ve done my best to explain everything for him in a letter so you don’t have to try and get him to listen to you.”

Tonks’s bitter laugh ricocheted around the room but even as the short sharp echoes faded, her gaze was drawn back to him, the anger in her furrowed brow softening to pain.

She picked up the holdall and took it to Snape’s bedside. Kingsley dug around in the pockets of his robes and Tonks wondered what else they planned to throw at her.

“Your hand,” said Kingsley. With a wary look, Tonks held out her right hand and Kingsley rubbed his face. “The other one, Tonks.”

“No,” said Tonks, as Kingsley held a ring out.

“We need to know if you’re alive,” said Kingsley.

Tonks groaned and looked away but held out her left hand. Kingsley slipped the gold band onto her ring finger, and if she had been looking, she would have seen the golden glow as Kingsley put the charm in place linking it to her but instead she saw a shiver race through Snape at the presence of more magic.

The Aurors were familiar with the rings. A standard method of tracking whether the wearer was alive or not. The hope being that if it raised the alarm of dying, the Auror could be found quickly enough. But they were usually only used for a few hours at a time, days at most. Often on missions where the Auror in question was being watched from afar as they did the necessary work. And the rings could only be worn on the ring finger. They were the simplest of monitoring magic. She suspected anything more complex would be too much of a risk around him.

Tonks knew the theory that the ring placement was meant to be because of the connections of veins and the heart. The Aurors long thought it was revenge from the department who provided tracking, because it was the same department which the Aurors dumped all their dark artefacts into, and they didn’t have the smoothest track record for tidying up after themselves. Always eager to get into the next mission, Aurors had been known to leave dark artefacts on a desk, in paper bags, and on one particularly bad occasion, the charmed cooling cabinet where everyone in the department left their lunch, because the Auror in question was desperate to get back into the field. That incident resulted in an interdepartmental war which was only stopped when Cornelius Fudge threatened to put into Azkaban the people who had turned a corridor into a swimming pool.

“There’s no cover story in place,” said Moody. “If anyone asks, you can say you took a boat to the island in the night or got an early ferry crossing, but the rest is up to you.”

“Brilliant,” said Tonks, miserably. She rubbed her thumb across the delicate band. “I really have to be there for a month?”

“That’s how long the formal investigation is likely to take,” said Kingsley, “and Madam Pomfrey has said there’s little point in reassessing him until then.”

“A formal investigation?” said Tonks.

“He has done a lot in the name of both sides,” said Moody, “but for all I believe, plenty still believe he’s a risk.”

“So I’m not really protecting him?” 

“He won’t have his wand,” said Kingsley, “and he wouldn’t cope with practising magic anyway, but given that a stint in Azkaban while the investigation is carried out would kill him, we’ve had to concede to some kind of guard being present.”

“Ready?” said Madam Pomfrey.

“No,” said Tonks.

She picked up the holdall and made sure that despite being wrapped around her, the ends of the shawl were grasped in her hand. She hesitated for a moment then took Snape’s hand. There was no response from his cold touch. Her grip tightened as Kingsley withdrew his wand.

“Moody and I will see you in a month,” said Kingsley, “and very likely before then, while we try and sort out the mess at the Ministry.”

“It’d be easy if he was dead,” said Moody, “he’d be a war hero, but he’s complicated things by being alive.”

Tonks closed her eyes and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Kingsley uttered an incantation and the Portkey was activated. In the next moment, Tonks and Snape were gone.

“Do you really think he’s going to recover?” said Kingsley, looking at the empty bed.

“I think she’s the best chance he’s got,” said Madam Pomfrey.

Tonks and Snape landed in a heap on the floor in a darkened room. Tonks groaned, the holdall having slammed against her leg as the rest of her hit him and the floor. She was lying half on top of Snape and while she let the holdall slip from her grasp, she didn’t move. There was a muffled thud as the holdall hit the rug beneath them. 

“Still alive?” she whispered, her mouth inches from his.

Her hand moved with a panic she didn’t try to rein in and she felt for his breathing. Unconvinced by the first shallow movements of his body, she watched his mouth and pressed her hand against him, willing him to take a deeper breath which she couldn’t write off as her own body shaking. Propping herself up with her free arm by his head, she swept his hair from his face.

“Come on, Severus.” She bit her lip and willed herself to keep still. “You can do this.” 

The movements remained so slight and slippery against her touch as to feel like they were figments of her imagination. She pulled herself up so she could lean closer and rested her forehead against his.

“Please,” she breathed. Her own breaths came unsteadily and she didn’t trust each rustle of fabric and movement to not be her own. “Please.”

A deeper breath pushed against her hand and a sound tumbled from her which was half laughter, half distress, and threatened to push her to tears either way. Her breath was hot against his cold skin and her body warm against him. Another deep breath against her hand, and as if she had just stirred from sleep and it was second nature, she moved closer to kiss him when a bolt of pain shot through her before she could press her lips to his. She scrambled back until she pressed herself up against furniture. She could see his breathing now, the rise and fall clear, though it was the only sign of life. No other movement giving away that he was still alive. Tonks wiped away tears which weren’t there and stood up shakily. 

Shrugging off her robes, she heard the clank of the keys and pulled them from a pocket. She turned around, steps slow as her gaze slid across what was in front of her. Another turn and she forced herself to look properly. Large windows with curtains drawn graced opposite sides of the room, an armchair under one and a sofa beneath the other, with a bookcase across the back wall. A small kitchen occupied the other end of the room with a table and chairs tucked along one wall. A door that led outside sat between the kitchen and living area. On the other side of the room, Tonks saw a door standing ajar. She looked back at Snape, lying too still for comfort, his head turned to one side. Not the ease of sleep in his features but—

“Cursed.” Her hand flew to her mouth and she screwed up her eyes. “Oh Merlin, cursed.”

Tonks sniffed and rubbed her eyes. She had work to do. Wand in hand, she headed towards the open door and nudged it further with her foot. Two more doors. One led to a bedroom, one to a bathroom. Tonks walked slowly into the bedroom. There was a large bed, a chest of drawers, an armchair, and one more door which led to a cupboard full of pillows and bed linens. She went back to investigate the bathroom. Tonks stared longingly at the bath and the shower. How long had it been since she had done either? She looked down at herself. Dust, blood, sweat. She rubbed her face and turned around. One more door. An airing cupboard with towels and housekeeping bits and pieces. She closed the door with a careful push. There were no more doors. She walked through the cottage and unlocked the door which led outside.

Opening the door, she shielded her eyes from the bright light and was met with a large swathe of _machair_. Sea air swept around Tonks and as if under an enchantment she stepped outside. Glancing back, she saw the cottage was nestled against a small hillside. A beach lay a stone’s throw away and rough tracks lead to a village on the edge of a harbour where boats bobbed on the water. Limewashed cottages were dotted around the undulations in the landscape, their stark white walls glowing in the early morning light. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she saw sheep grazing in distant fields, and some gardens already with laundry hung out on washing lines blowing gently in the breeze.

Grasses and wildflowers grew with abandon around the cottage. Waves crashed against the shore and the seabirds were trying to catch their breakfast. Tonks laughed. A laugh which dissolved into a sob and broke the spell. She bit her lip and pawed at her eyes with the palm of her hand. She didn’t belong here. She was meant to be picking up the pieces after the war. What had she done to deserve the punishment of not being able to help?

Turning back to the cottage, she stepped inside and closed the door. Snape hadn’t moved. She walked around the cottage again looking for more doors. This wasn’t like Hogwarts where doors could pretend to be walls and still, despite her searching, no more doors appeared. She stood in the bedroom and stared at the bed. The sofa it was, then. On her way out of the room she flicked the light switch on and off, grateful to see the electricity was working. She cast a permanent Silencing Charm on the bathroom. There were some risks with magic she was willing to take and this was one she would duel Moody over if it came to it. She checked the water was running in the kitchen, and found the cupboards and fridge empty, before walking into the middle of the room.

Kingsley said she would need to put up basic wards. Tonks raised her wand then lowered it. Snape’s chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. A Silencing Charm was little different than what Kingsley did to link the ring to her, but wards? Even basic ones were stronger magic, many times more so. She knew the incantations she needed to speak, the wand movements she needed to make. Her gaze lingered on him.

“You can’t die.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Moody would be really upset by the paperwork, okay?”

She turned her back on him. The wards she was planning to put up were stronger magic but not complex, not by the standards she was used to. She could avoid seeing what the wards did to him. She spun on her heel, edged around the holdall, and knelt down beside him. The wards were to encompass the whole cottage, it wouldn’t matter where she cast them, they would be around him. Her fingers brushing his palm, she rested her hand on his, and raised her wand.

He writhed. No sounds fell from his lips and his eyes remained closed. But he writhed. His fingers curled around her hand and she carried on placing the wards with only the briefest catch in her voice betraying her panic. This she could do. Magic under pressure was a mainstay of being an Auror. She had to do this. If she started over, he would suffer longer. With the last movement of her wand and syllable of incantation, she grabbed his hand. The moment the wards were in place and the magic settled, he stopped moving.

She wondered how much she missed when the Portkey brought them here. Did he writhe until they hit the floor? 

His hand slipped from hers. His grasp gone, hers not quick enough.

“Severus?”

What steady rhythm of breathing had been there before was missing. Tonks leaned over him, her ponytail tumbling past her shoulder. 

“Come on, think of—think of the paperwork.”

The threat of Moody’s happiness wasn’t persuasive. Tonks rested her hand on Snape, willing his body to move with deep breaths. With any breaths. She whimpered when she felt a shallow movement beneath her hand.

“You can do better than that.” It stung to hear herself pleading with him. "Damn it, Severus."

She sank back against the sofa, her legs outstretched on the floor. The edge of the rug pressed against her leg but she couldn't bear to move again. Head resting against the arm of the sofa, she watched the too shallow movements of his chest, powerless to help him. Still hurting too badly to keep pleading with him. 

Three days. She had been awake for three days and still she fought her heavy eyelids as the most recent potions began to wear off. Watching one more breath in and out. Just one more proof he was alive. Another to be sure. Just one—

  


**11.03am**

That body, he knew that body, the lines and curves. He stared at the soft edges, willing them to give up their secrets, to tell him that she still breathed, still lived.

He didn't know how long he had been watching her, only that in her sleep she sighed twice and hugged her arms closer to herself as her brow furrowed when her head moved against the sofa. The dirt on her face was smeared with what he suspected was blood. He tried to move and all of him hurt, the pain bone deep, even when all he did was turn his head.

"You're alive," said Snape, his voice barely recognisable to himself.

The wand was pointed at him before Tonks had her eyes fully open. She blinked twice and lowered her arm. Tonks rubbed her face and realised she'd begun to drool where she had been leaning against the sofa. Wiping her hand across her mouth she wondered if she could have made a less attractive first impression. Still covered in the debris of battle and then drooling. What wasn't to love? Plenty, she knew, and the ache which had never really left, began to throb.

"Yeah, I'm alive," she said. Her empty smile flickered for a moment before disappearing altogether.

He tried to push himself up and she scooted closer, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder. Too close. She turned her head away. His hand was still cold in hers and the strength of his grasp faltered. 

He watched her head turn, the pain cutting through her when she took his hand. She didn’t take her hand from his shoulder but her touch was an echo of what he knew she was capable of. A wave of pain swept over him and he wobbled. Her head whipped back to look at him as her grasp tightened. With his free hand, he patted the floor near him as he sat up.

“My wand,” he said.

“Later,” she said, “I’ll explain everything later.”

“Now.”

“No.”

He looked around, seeing more clearly their surroundings. A simple room. This wasn’t Hogwarts, unless she somehow got him into the Room of Requirement, but he was sure that was destroyed in the battle. The battle. Fragments of memory ricocheted around his mind. Flashes of chaos chased by pain. 

“I need to get you to bed.” She was maneuvering herself so she could stand without letting her hold on him falter.

“A bit forward, isn’t it?”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Rising slowly, he grabbed for her when he swayed and they stood in an awkward hug which neither of them made to move from.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“What’s going on?”

“Once you’ve slept.”

“Where is this?”

“A cottage.”

“Tonks.”

“It’s somewhere safe,” she relented. “Please believe me.”

“Is it over?” he asked, bluntly, searching her eyes even as he blinked heavily.

“Yes,” she said, with a pained smile. “We won, remember?”

“I wanted to be certain.” He wanted to ask if this meant she knew everything. If the war was over and he wasn’t in Azkaban, someone had to have vouched for him. His true intentions had been revealed. His very private memories shared. What memories continued to surface did so as if in the midst of a foggy night. Still only brief unintelligible glimpses visible.

“You trust me to tell you the truth?”

“Do I have a choice?”

For the briefest moment the war didn’t exist and only her laugh did.

“Why?” he said, grieving that he broke the spell, but needing to know more.

“You need to be stronger first,” she said. “I need to go, and Merlin, this is all such a mess.” As if she had forgotten herself, her hand on his shoulder gave the slightest nudging stroke. “Come on.”

“This is bad.”

“You’ve no idea.” And her touch stiffened, the softness forced away. Her lips parted as if to speak but she swallowed and licked her lips. Stepping to the side, as if about to dance, she twirled. Her arm slipped around his waist and the one she still held, she brought around her shoulders.

“Tonks—”

“It’s not far,” she said, and yet each step was a long way as Snape did all he could not to lean on her. She pushed the door open with her foot and she paused for a moment. “That’s the bathroom, and this,” she gestured with her hand that still grasped his, “is the bedroom”

“Bedroom?”

“Yes, a room with a bed, a place where people sleep.” She had missed his smirk. With her arm around him, she nudged him forward. Even with the curtains closed, sunlight crept around the edges of the window, illuminating the tartan bedspread.

“We’re still in Scotland?”

“You need to rest.”

“And you?”

“Need to go out,” she said, “there’s no food.”

He wanted to argue with her, keep her here with him longer, but the short walk had exhausted him. Still with her arm around him, she leant towards the bed and flung the sheets back. He wondered why she didn’t use a charm, rather than try and hold on to him, too.

She guided him towards the bed and stumbled when he sat, not having thought how to take her hands from him. Landing half on top of him she gave a rueful laugh. When she tried to move, she thought for a fleeting moment he tried to hold onto her, his hand on her back, but in the next moment his touch was gone. She clambered off him and without thinking stroked one of his legs when he swung them up onto the bed. 

“Tonks—”

“Just rest, okay?” she said, pulling the sheets and bedspread back over him. Even being against her and holding her hands, he was still cold. “I won’t be away long.” She walked away and closed the door behind her.

Snape tried to keep his eyes open, tried to focus on the noises around him, but pain seared through him. Not the intense fire of the Cruciatus, but a smouldering burn in painfully slow retreat. He murmured her name again while sleep carried him off to something resembling peace.

Tonks crouched down by the holdall. Before the zip was fully undone, she rubbed her eyes and took a great gasping breath. She glanced at the clock and slipped to her knees. A month together. And yet a few hours hurt. She wouldn’t ask Moody to let her switch with someone else. There wasn’t anyone else. Not really. The other Aurors who knew about living with Muggles had families to be with and loved ones to grieve for. She would do her work and she wouldn’t kill him. All she wanted was for this not to hurt. A few hours and she wanted to curl up and cry. She knew some of it was the emotional debris of the past few days. She sniffed and shook her head. There was work to do. 

A large pouch and wallet were at the top of the holdall, along with Kingsley's letter addressed to Snape. Tonks put the letter back and looked through the pouch where she found money. It was months since she last handled Muggle money, but she flicked through the notes and felt comfortable with how much she would need to take with her. She put the money in the wallet, the pouch back in the holdall, and stood up. Finding the keys, she dug them out and turned them over in her hand. Dirt, blood, sweat. She stared at her skin for a moment as if trying to remember how she became so dirty. The battle felt all at once like it had ended both hours and weeks ago. Pulling at her top, she realised leaving without a shower and clean clothes would only cause suspicion. 

She left the keys and the wallet on the small dining table and retrieved the holdall which clunked against the table. Tonks inspected each item as she removed it from the holdall. The most cheerful pieces of clothing for Snape were a grey t-shirt and fleece. Everything else was black, even the pair of hiking boots and the washbag someone picked out for him. Her clothing was made up of practical pieces and she was relieved to see another pair of boots. She glanced down at her own which withstood months of fighting but wouldn’t last much longer. There was an Auror wash bag for her, the kind usually flung across the department at the Aurors who forgot to pack properly for trips.

Tonks bundled Snape’s things in her arms and crept towards the bedroom. Easing the handle while keeping everything balanced in her arms, she pushed the door open and found him asleep, her breath catching as she heard the slow steady rhythm of his. She crept into the room and put his things on top of the chest of drawers, leaving the boots on the floor. She closed the door behind herself and made for the bathroom, stopping only to retrieve the shampoo and body wash packed for her. There was only so much she could wash away but at least she would be presentable.

She dressed quickly, feeling strange pulling on the shorts and t-shirt, the first time in months that getting dressed hadn’t been another means of protecting herself. Boots on, wallet and keys retrieved from the table, she unlocked the door and was about to step outside when she turned and saw the grey shawl hanging over the sofa. She jogged across the room and grabbed the shawl, slinging it around her shoulders, a strange panic rising in her at the thought of having almost forgotten it. Under her top, her wand was tucked away in an adjustable holster which the person at the Ministry had thought to pack. Carrying her wand was natural, keeping the shawl close felt essential. She was about to lock the door again but slipped the keys in her pocket. She ran her hand across the grain of the heavy wood.

“I won’t be gone long.”

The loose dirt on the track crunched beneath Tonks’s boots and she shivered as the sea air blew around her still damp hair. A cat watched her from the remains of a dry stone wall and she found herself calling out a soft greeting to the creature who deigned to lick its paw by way of reply. Gentle waves moved against the white sands of the shore and Tonks didn’t realise she had stopped until the slam of a car door brought her back to her senses.

Seagulls were making a racket as they flew around the boats further out from the shore and Tonks kept shooting them glances as she walked into the village. There was one general shop with a weather beaten post office sign, a pub, and a bed and breakfast. She saw a few other buildings near the harbour but none of them suggested considerable food choices. Pausing outside the shop, Tonks stared at the chalkboard sign listing the soup of the day on offer at the pub next door, and she tried to think when she last ate.

She opened the door to the shop and heard the tinkle of a bell above her. From the counter just inside, an older woman with deep laugh lines and twinkling eyes said, “Hello!” as she sorted papers.

“Hello,” said Tonks, picking up a basket from beside the door as she closed it behind her.

She wandered along the small aisles, occasionally catching the woman watching her with a curious smile. Tonks smiled in return and tried to figure out what a basic food shopping ought to be. They needed to eat, and soon her basket was filled with fresh vegetables, bread and milk. She grabbed packets of tea with an almost feral desire. Ready to concede defeat in figuring out more meals as she put other cupboard staples in her basket, she saw a shelf of biscuits and decided they were an essential. The basket was getting heavier in her hand. She was willing to make it heavier for biscuits.

Now clear of the papers the woman had been dealing with, the basket landed with a clang on the shiny counter.

“Hello,” said the woman again. Her voice was warm like that of a beloved grandmother, and Tonks smiled.

“Hello again,” said Tonks, pulling out the wallet while the woman rang up the shopping and bagged it for her. Tonks tried to help and laughed when her hand was swiftly tapped.

“Tell me dear,” said the woman, “are you here on holiday?”

“Something like that,” said Tonks, chewing her lip and averting her gaze to look at the bags filling up with shopping.

The woman chuckled. “Is this you escaping for a few minutes from a beloved and children?”

“No,” said Tonks, in a rush, “no children, it’s just me and—and my husband.”

The woman raised her eyebrows in amusement when Tonks tripped over calling Snape her husband. “When did you get married?”

“Feels like it was hours ago,” said Tonks, running her fingers through her hair before hugging the shawl close to her. Married. She knew marriage would be the easier story, suspecting it wouldn’t go down well in the small village if the man she was with wasn’t her husband. And she needed this month to go as smoothly as possible.

“Newlyweds!”

Tonks gave a strangled cough and she could feel her cheeks burning but she nodded nonetheless.

“No better place to have a honeymoon,” said the woman, soothingly. “Lots of peace and quiet.”

“Yes,” said Tonks, forcing the word out.

The woman patted the bags and after a moment adjusted her glasses and looked at the register. She told Tonks how much the shopping came to and Tonks handed over several notes.

“Where are you staying, dear?” asked the woman, as she handed Tonks her change.

“Uh, the cottage beyond the beach, up the old track,” said Tonks, pointing towards the cottage through a gap in the notices taped to the window by the counter.

“You know,” said the woman, frowning, “everyone forgets about that cottage.” She shook her head and smiled fondly. “Well, you best get back to your husband, he won’t want to be parted from you for long, I’m sure.”

“No,” said Tonks, taking the bags. The woman held up her hand and dashed around the counter to hold the shop door open. The bell tinkled and Tonks smiled. “Thank you.”

When Tonks was clear of the shop, she groaned. Newlyweds. It was bad enough being married to him, now she was on her honeymoon with him. Thoughts of tea and biscuits sustained her for the rest of the walk back to the cottage. And sleep. She wondered if she might at last get a chance to sleep. Not to lean against furniture, walls, or people while she closed her eyes and tried to shut out the surrounding noise. But to lie down somewhere soft and quiet and let herself be taken by dreams.

Leaving the bags on the table, Tonks hesitated, then went through to the bedroom. With gratitude to whoever oiled the hinges, she eased the door open and watched Snape, still breathing and still asleep. His hair had fallen across his face, and for the briefest moment she thought of tiptoeing across the floorboards, just to tuck it behind his ear. She closed the door and returned to the kitchen to put away the shopping. 

Tonks knew she needed to eat and drink, but as if an enchantment had been cast on her when she stepped across the threshold, all she could think of was sleep. Taking off her boots, she considered going back into the bedroom to get a pillow and blanket from the cupboard. She took the shawl off, shook it out and swung it back around her shoulders. Her feet led her to the sofa where she lay down, pulling one of the smaller cushions beneath her head. Sleep didn’t hesitate to claim her for its own.


	2. Chapter 2

**May 6th Wednesday**

**1.36am**

Snape stood leaning against the doorway, still struggling to stand, his head aching as if from a particularly bad hangover. The sight of her fast asleep was a relief amidst the pain, then she moved and the light filtering through from the bedroom bounced off a ring. A wedding ring. Tonks was married. How much had he missed over the past year? Was it one of the Weasleys? Another Auror? Probably someone in the Order. 

"Explain," he demanded.

She drew her wand on him. He couldn’t doubt her aim and speed, even as she took a further moment to fully open her eyes and look at him before lowering her wand.

Slow steps took him across the rug to the armchair. He remembered waking up on the floor and wondered if that was why his back and shoulders hurt. 

Tonks pushed up against the sofa until she was sitting and rubbed her neck. The sofa was soft and the cushion had been better than no pillow but it still wasn’t a bed. Her hands drifted down to her back and rubbed at the ache. She glanced at the clock and groaned. Hours of sleep and it felt like five minutes, her head thick and heavy as she tried to sort out everything of the past few days and reorient herself.

His eyes were drawn back to the ring, again and again, while she stretched and groaned as she shook off the dregs of sleep. The room wasn’t cold but she picked up a shawl, shrugging it over her shoulders and wrapping it around herself. He watched her reach for her wand then pause, as if to reconsider. With stifled moans, she stood up and walked over to a small table he hadn’t noticed before. She came back with a letter and held it out to him, extending her hand further when he didn’t take it. The ring glinted in the light and he snatched the letter from her, though in his weakened state, he suspected she didn’t think anything of the action.

Tonks turned away from Snape and went back to the sofa, biting her lip as her eyes stung. It was as if he didn’t want to risk touching her. She was tired, exhausted, worn out by battle. Pawing at her eyes, she sunk down onto the sofa quicker than she intended to and huffed as she pulled her legs up. 

Having worried about his shallow breaths, she worried now about his deep breaths when he opened the envelope and pulled out Kingsley’s letter.

“Tonks,” he said, and she cringed at his look of loathing. He glanced back and forth between her and the letter. “Would you—I can’t—will you read this to me?”

“What?” Tonks sat up straighter, her head tilting slightly to the side, and she licked her lips.

He could only stare at those lips for a moment before closing his eyes. He rubbed his face and ran again through the list of who she might have married.

“I can’t focus on the words,” he said. There was no letterhead to decipher, and he had barely discerned his name in the neat writing before his head began to throb. He glanced up at her and was met by curious brown eyes watching him. “Please, Tonks.”

An echo of a smile twitched at the corner of her lips and she rose. She took the letter from him and returned to the sofa.

“It’s from Kingsley,” said Tonks. “He’s the interim Minister for Magic.”

“And thrilled with the position, no doubt.”

“Moody’s already complaining about being a politician’s husband.” Tonks’s laugh was more a small sigh of happiness, and she rubbed her thumb across the parchment in her hands. It wasn’t even days since coming to the island, yet she missed them.

She sat back on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her, and took a deep breath. She read the letter aloud, not taking her eyes from the parchment, and stopping only when she had to turn the page. When she looked up, he was watching her.

He had listened to her, soaking up Kingsley’s words as much as her soft voice free of venom. Her lips pulled up into small smiles at some of Kingsley’s phrasing and at other times her brow furrowed as she relayed to him things he realised she didn’t know. 

“Where are we?” asked Snape, wanting more than Kingsley’s suggestion that they were in an old Ministry safe house somewhere in rural Scotland.

Tonks folded up the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. She crossed the distance to the armchair and handed him the letter before walking to the door. She turned the handle and pulled the door open. A cool breeze slunk into the room, bringing with it sharp sea air. He tried to stand and fell back into the armchair. Lips pursed, she glanced outside, then walked back to him and held out her hands.

“Come on,” she murmured.

This time he managed to stand, and her soft hands in his, she took slow steps backwards towards the door. The gibbous moon’s shattered reflection moved with the swells of the sea and chased up the shore with the tide. A smattering of lights from cottages were like beacons on the darkened landscape. 

They were in a tiny paradise and as they stood in the doorway still holding hands, all Snape could think was that Tonks’s wedding ring seemed to actually hurt him. Was he really so entangled after a year apart? There was a soft burn against his skin where they touched. He didn’t want to let go. He knew she only held on so he didn’t fall.

The breeze ruffled Tonks’s shawl and she stiffened when the edges of the linen danced around their hands. His hands were no longer cold but still not as warm as she remembered them. She knew he was only holding on so as not to fall but she savoured the touch of his fingers on hers. To lose herself in fleeting memories was a welcome pain before the sea air caressed her skin and, instead of seeing memories which at times she desperately ignored and other times she was desperate to remember, she looked out across the water.

“You’re married,” he said, bluntly.

“To you,” she said, with a smile.

He had to stop himself leaning closer to kiss her.

Lying wasn’t her style. He wanted to know if there was someone else. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of being asked.

Tonks felt his hands twitch in hers and she looked away. Kingsley’s letter contained plenty about the battle, the curse, the investigations. He wrote about the need for isolation from the magical world and how he and Moody would visit at some point. He made sure to write that the Auror staying with Snape would be there for protection as well as to help him recover. And while Tonks stared out across the sea, over rising waves and flashes of moonlight on the water, she realised Kingsley and Moody truly did have no idea of the trouble which could be caused by assigning her to guard Snape. Otherwise Kingsley might have thought to add a footnote about the ring. She hoped Snape believed her.

“I’m your wife for the next month,” she admitted, tearing her gaze from the water and looking into the eyes as black as their piece of sea under the night’s sky. His silence wasn’t reassuring. “The ring lets the Ministry know I’m alive using the least amount of magic possible.” She frowned then, and looked down at their hands. She slipped her left hand from his right. “Any magic harms you.” Her fingers brushed his palm, no mark visible from the ring but a coldness she could no more pin down to the night air than she could to magic. “Which is why there’s no ring for you but if anything were to happen, I’d tell the Ministry.”

“Yes,” said Snape. “I gathered as much from Kingsley’s letter that they want me alive.”

“You’re not a fugitive.”

“It feels as though I’m on the run.”

“You’re on your honeymoon,” she said, smiling wryly.

“What?”

“I went to the shop earlier.” Tension was rippling through his touch and she wanted to ask him if such a notion of marrying her was really so repulsive but instead she admitted, “The woman there was one of those grandmother types who can interrogate people better than Moody can, and when she saw the ring, she asked about my ‘beloved and children’, and the ensuing mess ended with us being newlyweds.”

“No children?” he asked, sharply, alarmed that she might be so tired as to go with a cover story which would need altering.

“No,” said Tonks. Damn him. “And not even the suggestion of a quick wedding to try and avoid embarrassing counting games.”

“Just a quick wedding because of the Ministry’s excess of stupidity when it comes to tracking magic.” 

Snape turned away from Tonks and headed back to the armchair. When he looked about to stumble, Tonks’s heart raced, and she lunged towards him but he was close enough to the armchair that he could grab the back and fall into it. She closed the door and considered that she had nowhere to run to.

“Do you know where my wand is?” said Snape.

“No,” said Tonks, as she hugged the shawl closer to her.

She wanted a blanket, a bed, a pillow. She wanted someone to share them with. And instead she was going to be alone on a sofa for a month, though she could at least get a pillow and blanket at some point. Maybe she could convince Moody to bring a kneazle with him when he visited. Though knowing her luck, the creature would probably spend its time sleeping on the bed and not with her. 

“So I can’t even test this for myself,” he said.

Tonks found herself holding her wand out to Snape.

“Just—just do something small,” she said.

He was frowning at her but took her wand nonetheless. He ran his fingers along the wood and she saw his breathing change and the flickers of pain across his face.

“The Portkey was dangerous enough, we got here just after sunrise and it took you ages to even breathe normally.”

“You don’t want something to happen?”

“Wouldn’t want to cause more paperwork.”

“Lumos.” The word was slurred and he slumped in the chair as a blast of light illuminated the room before plunging them into near darkness again.

“No!” She grabbed her wand from his hand and threw it on the sofa. She took his hand in hers and saw no mark. “Severus?” She pushed his shoulders which elicited only a slight sway of his head. Her hands drifted down his body and she knelt by his feet. There was barely a quiver in his chest and Tonks pushed her forehead against his leg.

She shouldn’t have given him her wand. She’d known he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found out for himself. He survived the Portkey and a Lumos was small magic in comparison, but then, not small enough. He didn’t writhe like when she conjured the wards but he was no longer conscious. Even the ring had made him colder. She had tried to ignore that his other hand had been that crucial fraction warmer, the one which held only hers, with no magic to interfere in her touch.

Sitting back on her ankles, she turned her head so her cheek rested against his leg, and she kept her hands on his body. The tiny flutters of his breathing kept her eyes from closing. She watched the hands of the clock and knew when she started to paw at her eyes and rub circles on her forehead, that she had either to be satisfied that his breathing was steady, or risk falling asleep against him. She turned and groaned at the pins and needles in her legs and crawled across the floor. Hauling herself up onto the sofa, she sagged against the cushions and pulled the shawl around her arms and head, wanting somehow to hide, to escape, to be free of panic and the thoughts of him.

  
  


**5.28am**

When she opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realise why dread settled in her stomach at seeing the empty armchair. She sat up too quickly and clutched at her head. Forcing herself up, she moved as quickly as her sluggish body would allow, and went to the bedroom door which stood ajar. Peering through the gap, she saw him lying in bed, facing the door. The blankets were up over his shoulders and his eyes were closed. His body moved in the slow rhythm of heavy sleep and Tonks pushed the door further open. The golden glow of sunrise nudged at the edges of the curtains and she went to the window to try and block a little more of the light from flooding in.

When the creak of the cupboard door opening split the silence of the room, Tonks froze. Snape made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a yawn. Tonks pulled the door no further open and tried to wrangle a pillow and a blanket out from between the shelves. The blanket fell with a thud to the floor as she grabbed the pillow. Mouthing different expletives, she pushed the door closed and picked up her prize of comfort.

Easing back out of the bedroom she didn’t see him, with eyes barely half open, watching her leave. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him again. A month, a wretched month, and he knew she would override any desire for a bed to do what she thought was right. 

  
  


**3.47pm**

Tonks had been losing herself to different thoughts for hours. The mug of tea was half empty and the wrong side of warm. When the tea was too hot to drink, she had dunked biscuits into it. The first food she had eaten in days and it somehow felt both like too much and not enough.

The front door of the cottage open, she sat on the wooden floor with her bare feet on the warm flagstone outside. The breeze was cool, but in the sunshine and with the shawl wrapped around her, she was basking like the seals on the beach. When there was a car door slammed, or a particularly loud seagull, she would take in the world around her but otherwise her thoughts strayed back to Hogwarts. Different parts of the battle playing out in front of her. Different possibilities in tantalizing reach if only it weren’t for them being in her imagination. Lives she could have saved, things she could have done differently. And sometimes her mind would drift to the man asleep in the bedroom. How had she ended up here with Snape?

He knew she heard him come through to the living area and still she sat in the doorway, a great grey swathe of fabric embracing her, her soft brown hair caught beneath it with only stray strands being lifted by the breeze. She turned to look at him and rested her chin on her shoulder.

He was standing without having to lean on anything. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey was right. He would recover quickly once away from the magic of Hogwarts. Still, he looked tired and as though he was recovering from a long illness. A smile tugged on her lips from memories she was quick to squash, though not before she could remember him putting draughts in front of her.

“You think you can manage food?” she said. “It’s been a few days.”

“You went to a shop,” he said, as if trying to remember whether something was real or not.

Tonks stood up without much grace as she tried to keep what tea was left from spilling while she held onto her shawl.

“I picked up basics.” She went to the sink, tipped the last of the tea out, and rinsed the mug. “Right now, I’m not thinking of anything more complicated than tea and toast.”

“Coffee,” he said.

“You really think you can stomach coffee?” Her back to him while she filled up the kettle. “I know you’re standing but let’s not get too adventurous.” She glanced back at him and nearly lost her grip on the kettle. She turned off the tap and put the kettle back. The switch flipped, the rush of the boil got louder around them. She kept her focus on the extra mug, then the packet of tea bags. “I haven’t had coffee, either.”

“Tea will be fine.”

“I’m not trying to poison you,” she said. “It’s just—I’m too tired to have a crisis because you had lots of caffeine after days of nothing.” She poured the boiling water over the tea bags then fetched a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water. He was sitting at the small table, arms crossed, his expression less murderous than she’d expected. She set the glass down in front of him. “Look, my orders are not to kill you.”

“Do they know?”

She went back to the mugs and took out the tea bags, putting them on a plate. He sipped the water while he watched her take a milk carton from the fridge and top up the mugs before putting the carton back. She readjusted the shawl and didn’t look at him once until she was bringing the mugs over to the table and sitting opposite him. She wrapped her hands around the mug and when her leg brushed against his, she tucked her legs beneath the chair.

“I didn’t know if you were dead or alive,” she said. “I’m not soulless.” She rubbed her fingers around her eye. “Moody said everyone else would want to kill you and since I’m ‘the nice one’ they chose me.” She caught the flicker of his smile before it disappeared into bitterness. “But Kingsley specifically requested I not kill you after I asked what you knew about this.” She gestured at the room around them.

“I don’t recall any conversations about this,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“You were in and out of consciousness when the Healers were working on you,” she said. “That’s what they told me.” She studied his face. “If it’s any consolation, none of them would tell me what you said.”

“Then we’re both in the dark,” he said. He had thought it was a dream. A misplaced memory. The remnant of a nightmare. He thanked Merlin she didn’t know.

  
  
  
  


**May 7th Thursday**

**10.48am**

Tonks rose not long after the sun and the front door had been open since then. Snape had joined her a couple of hours later. He drank tea without complaint though he eyed the mug with suspicion nonetheless. She made toast for them both and neither of them acknowledged that it took him half an hour to eat a slice of toast, while she made quick work of two.

She may have thought the curse was stopping him from eating ordinarily but his attention kept being torn from food by the way she would lose herself in staring out of the window while she licked marmalade from her fingers. If he asked her to stop, it would mean confessing he’d been watching her. She would know better than to think he was simply correcting her manners.

While she did the small amount of washing up, he moved to the armchair, uncomfortable to admit to himself that no matter how much Tonks and the marmalade caused a distraction, the act of drinking tea and eating toast had exhausted him. When he leant back in the armchair, he didn’t like how much of a relief it was that he could rest a little. His arms crossed, Snape soon closed his eyes, listening to Tonks move around the little piece of kitchen. He found strange comfort in the soft sounds of her bare feet on the floorboards. The splashes of water and the sharp clank of plates being put away. Her little sighs and seconds long moments of hummed songs.

He woke with a start when Tonks cried with joy, “Nelly!”

Instinctively, Snape reached for his wand before remembering it wasn’t there. 

“Hello beautiful,” said Tonks.

Snape turned, his neck aching, to see a barn owl perched on the back of a chair.

“How are you?” She stroked the owl before taking several rolled pieces of parchment from its leg. Tonks stepped back and the owl flew to her arm.

Snape leant forward, his arms on his knees, unwilling to admit that standing felt like a challenge.

Tonks glanced at him, unable to stop herself smiling before looking back to the owl. “Nelly, this is Snape.”

It was an unexpected pain that she wouldn’t use his first name. He tried to remember but had the feeling of last hearing his name fall from her lips as if in a dream. He knew it had been a year, not days.

“Snape, this is Nelly.”

“Nelly?” asked Snape. 

“Cornelius,” said Tonks, and the owl made what passed for a happy noise and nipped at her affectionately. She stroked Nelly’s head and the owl ruffled his wings. “He’s mine, a gift from my parents, but mum chose his name and the closest I could get to changing it was Nelly.”

“I see.”

“One of mum’s geese is called Voldemort,” said Tonks. “Mean, mean bird.” At Snape’s cough, she turned to him again. “He’s the reason for this.” She held up her left arm, turning it slightly to show a scar below her elbow.

“I remember,” said Snape, quietly. The dull ache in his head seemed to have worsened since Nelly had flown into the cottage. Kingsley’s letter had spoken about traces of magic and Snape disliked how evident the truth of this was becoming.

“Oh,” she said, turning back to Nelly, “of course, yes, I forgot.”

Tonks patted her shoulder and Nelly hopped to sit there. She unrolled the sheets of parchment while Nelly watched Snape. Of course he remembered. Tonks had to reread Moody’s letter several times before the words sunk in, seeing instead the first time Snape saw what Voldemort had done to her.

There were two letters and a small package. One from her parents telling her they loved her, that Nelly was to stay with her for the duration of her work trip, and that Moody told them what was going on. Moody’s letter informed her the Daily Prophet would be arriving by regular subscription starting the next day, that Nelly was for whatever she needed, and before his sign off of ‘constant vigilance’, his reiteration that she not kill Snape. It was almost a love letter by Moody’s standards. Tonks unwrapped the package, slipping the twine from around the brown paper to find a box of owl treats. Nelly ruffled his feathers but kept a polite silence on her shoulder. Tonks fed him a couple of treats.

“I’m just going to show Nelly the garden and sheds,” she said.

“Yes,” said Snape, his head now in his hands, his eyes closed as the throbbing pain increased.

He listened to Tonks talking quietly to Nelly, her voice fading as she walked out of the cottage. She was gone for several minutes before returning without the owl.

“I showed Nelly the old shed at the bottom of the garden,” said Tonks. She washed and dried her hands at the kitchen sink before picking up her shawl and sitting on the sofa. “Because it’s an old Ministry place, the shed doubles as a small owlery.” Snape nodded and Tonks frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Traces of magic,” he murmured. “Owls have more than I realised.” He glanced up at her before putting his head in his hands again. To close his eyes and rest his head was a small relief and he needed it. “Any news?”

She wondered about sharing all the details of the letter but all she said was, “Moody’s arranged for the Daily Prophet to start being delivered tomorrow.”

Groaning, he sat up and leant back in the chair. He watched her through half open eyes. The Daily Prophet? The war was over. Now it was time for the scavengers. Tonks was chewing her lip and holding the shawl close around herself again. The space between them could be crossed in a few steps. They were alone in this cottage, except for Nelly, and knowing the Daily Prophet was coming the next day, it felt worse than ever to have a chasm between them. He knew she didn’t want to be stuck here with him but he knew there was another battle coming with the owl the next morning. And as things stood, they would be facing the conflict from different sides. His enemy’s enemy wasn’t his friend. His enemy’s enemy was his ex.

Tonks held his gaze and wanted to leap from the sofa and crawl onto his lap. There had been no news for days and for all the celebration, she knew the Daily Prophet would bring grief and strife, too. She wanted a hand to hold when the paper came. His hand, she realised, not anyone else’s. Someone who knew what compromises in war meant. Someone who knew her. Had known her. They were strangers now. She looked away and curled up on the sofa. She had survived a war. She could survive the Daily Prophet.

  
  


**11pm**

Snape had gone to bed hours before, unable to pretend he didn’t need to lie down before he collapsed.

Tonks knew her luck was going to run out soon, and credited only the sheer exhaustion of the past few days for not bringing her nightmares. She couldn’t tempt fate any longer and stared at the bedroom door for several minutes before knowing what she had to do. He needed to rest, she needed him not to know. She cast the Silencing Charm on the room, then curled up on the sofa with the pillow and blanket.

  
  
  
  


**May 8th Friday**

**1.34am**

She awoke crying and clawing at the sofa. Her chest heaved with panicked breaths and her cries gave way to whimpers as she scrambled up. Wand in her hand, arm stiff, she pressed her back against the sofa and cast a Lumos. When she was able to stand, she looked behind and underneath the furniture, wiping tears from her cheeks as she did so. She checked the front door was locked. At least this time she hadn’t thrown up.

Snape stirred, groaning, his head throbbing with pain. He looked at the bedroom door, sighed, and closed his eyes.

  
  


**2.26am**

Tonks couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. The shawl around her, the blanket another layer above, she had tried. Eyes darting around the room, patches of nightmare dancing in front of her, echoes of carnage filling her ears. She slumped against the sofa, powerless to stop sleep claiming her again.

  
  


**5.39am**

The sunrise fought to illuminate the room. Tonks woke feeling groggy, then a jolt ran through her when she realised she had fallen asleep, and let her guard down. She lifted the Silencing Charm and curled up beneath the blanket again, staring at the armchair. The Daily Prophet would be arriving today. She wanted to keep her shields up. Shield them both for a little longer. They had hours.

Snape rolled over in his sleep, some of the tension leaving his body, his hand reaching out across the bed to feel for someone who wasn’t there in an action he would have no memory of when he woke. He'd been doing it for months and not noticed once.

  
  


**10.14am**

One of the Daily Prophet subscription owls flew through the open front door and perched on the back of Snape’s chair. Tonks leapt up and held out her arm, clicking her tongue to encourage the owl to move. She removed the Daily Prophet and picked out a treat from the box Moody sent. The owl downed the treat and left.

Tonks glanced at Snape as she unrolled the newspaper. The front page was a mess of information: death counts listed, funeral dates, Kingsley’s latest announcements, photos of Hogwarts in ruins, and the list of people who had been taken to Azkaban. She quickly read both lists, then stumbled and grabbed the chair before sitting down. The paper on the table, she rested her head on her hands, rereading the lists. Recognising names. Forcing herself to acknowledge what was in front of her. 

“Do you want to see how your associates have fared?” asked Tonks, looking up at Snape from beneath her lashes.

“I didn't know you cared.”

“I don’t care,” she said, sitting up. “I tried caring and look where it got me.”

He grabbed the paper from in front of her. He didn’t know which made him feel more ill: how his head throbbed from reading the lists while photos moved only inches away, the names in front of him, or how she watched him read. 

  
  
  
  


**May 9th Saturday**

**9.47am**

Tonks was sitting on the floor beside the laundry basket, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her shorts while she read the instructions for the washing machine behind her. She found the manual in the back of a cupboard. For all her trips to stay with her Muggle grandparents, she only had a vague notion as to how the machine worked. She’d treated the sheaf of papers like rare wizarding texts in her desire to have clean clothes and towels.

Snape earned himself a scowl from Tonks when he threw a towel into the laundry basket.

He knew she wasn’t keeping her things in the bedroom. He had checked again before showering, opening each drawer and finding no trace of her there. The holdall wasn’t in the cupboard or under the bed. She was keeping herself entirely separate from him.

Her attention was back on the instructions for the washing machine, if the black and white diagrams were anything to go by. The papers fluttered in the breeze coming through the open front door. He watched her fingers stray from the hem of her shorts to scratch her calf then push the shawl back over her shoulder after it fell in her lap.

When they were alone she would bounce around a room, twirling and gesturing with her whole body as she tried to win frivolous arguments, her laughter overriding the finer points as she willed him to admit she was right. Then she would lean against him, tilt her head, look him in the eye, and—

“A few more weeks and you’ll be able to run off back to whoever you left behind,” he said. “Do I get to know who it is?”

She looked up at him slowly.

“Do you think I’ve been keeping secrets?” she said.

“I’m sure they’re not a secret from everyone else.”

She rose slowly from the floor and chucked the instructions on the counter top then crossed her arms

“You first,” she said. “Of course, you were meant to be busy saving the wizarding world, but how am I to know that you didn’t find someone amongst Voldemort’s ranks to keep your bed warm at night?” She looked at him expectantly, her head tilting, her eyes hard. “Or did you sleep around? That’s what I was accused of.”

“I had more important things to do,” he spat. 

“People would try and sleep with me so they could brag about bedding the Auror related to all the Death Eaters, or try and convince me to metamorphose into their exes or a prettier type,” she said, stepping closer to him. “I’ve got no one to go back to.” She searched his eyes. “Mum and dad survived the war which is all I wanted and it’s all I got.”

“You didn’t want anything else?” 

He knew the laugh was hers. He knew it was the furthest thing from amusement.

“Have you just been biding your time to ask?” she said, feeling herself lean forward by the smallest fraction. Her hands were balled into fists and a burning sensation crept across her face. “Who would you want me to be?” The angry smile stayed as if she couldn’t relinquish it if she wanted to. She held herself like a snake about to strike. Then in the briefest flicker, doubt plagued her features only to be chased away. She saw the understanding in his eyes of what she was about to say and tasted bitter regret as the name flew from her lips, “Lily?”

“Never,” he said, in the same flat tone she had last heard directed at her a year ago. He turned and walked out of the cottage.

Tonks staggered back. Her hands slipped against the edge of the counter and the brief dig of the wedding ring against her finger elicited a cry from her. Sinking to the floor, the burn gave way to tears. Her desperation to scream had been building for months. Too many people thought she was a creature to be moulded. He had been her safe place for so long. It wasn’t his fault he could draw so much from her without a single request. Without the touch which used to elicit even more. And she had thrown back at him a secret ripped from him by war. It wasn’t hers to throw. It wasn’t hers in any way. A secret she had flung as if it was a curse. Merlin, he was cursed. It was the only reason he was here. He had no option of escape. Only a hope that for everything he had given to help win the war, he might recover, might be exonerated. And she had thrown it in his face as if it were a slight against her. She had forced him away and she knew when he came back, it wouldn’t be to her.

He sat on the grass, staring at the beach, listening to her sobbing which she managed to control for only moments at a time. She was here to be his guard and her venom was only further confirmation that there was no other reason for her to accept Moody and Kingsley’s proposal. She was telling the truth, he hoped he still knew that much of her: there was no one else. And she would do her work. No other reason to accept and every reason to want to leave. He couldn’t give her an escape but he could give her space. Not knowing where the wards ended, he didn’t stray far and occupied himself with identifying the wildflowers and plants which grew freely inside the drystone boundary line. His head throbbed but his memory was clear enough to know which potions could be brewed with fresh ingredients around him. Another part of his life which threatened to never come back to him.

  
  


**1pm**

Taken from the shelves in the cottage, the cookbook Tonks had been flipping through was now propped up on the counter while she made soup. She glanced over at Snape who was reading a book on the local history of the area. He looked up and met her gaze. She left the wooden spoon balanced on top of the saucepan. The soup was almost done and simmering gently. He was still watching her when she turned back. A few steps away from the cooker was as close as she could manage.

He almost wanted to laugh as he watched her shove her hands in the shorts pockets, then cross and uncross her arms before running her hands over her hair and turning around. She took two bowls from the cupboard and ladled soup into them. She dug spoons out of a drawer and put them in the bowls. Napkins retrieved from another drawer, she took one bowl over to the armchair.

“You look tired,” she said, handing him the bowl before going over to the sofa. Sitting down, she rested her elbows on her knees, and fiddled with her thumbs. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at him and took a deep breath. “I should never have said what I said about Lily. It was a low blow and I crossed a line.” 

“It was Dawlish’s funeral today,” said Snape.

Tonks nodded and pawed at her eyes. “It’s no excuse for—I know you—I,” she let out a sob and a small scream of frustration, “I know you would never ask me to metamorphose for—to do that.” She pulled down her sleeve and wiped her face. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to eat?” he asked, quietly.

“I’ll have mine soon,” she said, then gave a hiccoughing laugh. “My appetite has kind of wobbled.”

“Why aren’t you metamorphosing?”

“Got to keep cover.”

“What if I threaten not to eat until you go pink,” he said, “at least for a while.” She smiled, actually smiled, and the corner of his mouth pulled up.

“I’m not bargaining with you.” Her smile softened and she went to get her soup. They ate until she saw him rubbing at his forehead. “Tired?”

“I feel like I’ve been trampled by a Hippogriff.” 

“Rest awhile, then,” she said, taking his bowl and putting it by the sink. She went back to the sofa and made slow work of her soup while he closed his eyes without argument and gently slipped into sleep. She screwed up her eyes and her hair turned pink. She twirled the vibrant strands around her fingers before screwing up her eyes again and returning to her natural brown. 

The washing up could wait. Her bowl by the sink, she put her feet up on the sofa and leant against the cushions, watching him until she drifted off.

  
  


**3.36pm**

“You need to rebuild your strength,” said Tonks, dumping Snape’s hiking boots in front of him. It explained why she had disappeared into the bedroom. At his quizzical expression, she added, “Plus I’m fed up of being stuck here and I need to go to the shop.”

He was pulling on the boots and doing up the laces when she disappeared again to the bedroom. She came back with a fleece and put it on the back of the armchair.

“You’ve been feeling the cold more,” she said, sitting on the sofa, “and the breeze can get chilly.” She was tying up the laces on her own boots and glanced up at him. “I mean, I just, I don’t want you collapsing in the village.”

He nodded and she felt her cheeks getting warmer.

Snape was standing just outside the cottage and Tonks had the keys in her hand when she turned and dashed across the room to grab the shawl. She slung the softening linen around her neck and went back to close and lock the door, then slipped the keys in her pocket.

“You’re very attached to that shawl,” he noted.

“It was the Portkey,” she said, stiffly, unhappy that the words had tripped from her lips.

“I see.”

Tonks walked ahead and opened the creaking gate. When Snape stepped out of the garden he stumbled and Tonks grabbed him. If he fell he would take them both down but as it was her grasp on both his arms was enough to help him regain his balance.

“The wards,” she murmured.

“Thank you for the warning.” He groaned and stood up but she didn’t do more than loosen her grasp.

“I didn’t think crossing them would do that,” she said, “you’ve been surrounded by them and been okay.”

“The picture of health.”

She let go of him, stepped to his other side, and took his hand. He didn’t respond in kind.

“What are you doing?”

“Just take my hand,” she said. “You haven’t done more than walk around the cottage for days.” She stroked his fingers. “Wedding ring is on the other hand, it can’t hurt you.”

She didn’t like how much of a relief it was when he took her hand or how comfortable it felt. No longer a brief moment stolen under threat of being discovered. No ignoring how it was once a way of leading the other to bed or to try and stop them leaving. 

Tonks kept her pace deliberately slow and Snape didn’t seem to be in a hurry. After a few minutes he stopped and she came to a halt, turning to face him. She put her other hand on his body, the reflex to check if he was breathing overriding the fact he was standing.

“You okay?” she said.

“Yes.” He surveyed the village. “You mentioned shopping?”

“I need to get more bread and milk, and a couple of other things. If it’s too much we can go back and I’ll do the shopping on my own.”

“Give me the grand tour,” he drawled. “Let’s get it over with.” Her short laugh brought his gaze back to her. Those lips. Damn the woman. And she had her hand against him. “You’re meant to be keeping that ring away from me.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, taking her hand from him.

The bell tinkled when they entered the shop and she still held his hand as she reached for the basket.

“Hello!” The woman who Tonks met when she first came to the shop was beaming. “This must be your husband!” She looked at Snape who smiled at her in polite confusion. “Your wife was telling me how you’re here on your honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Snape. “We were married just earlier this month.”

Tonks looked at him. “I’m going to leave you to chat with—” 

“I’m Morag.” The woman chuckled as she watched Snape and Tonks look at each other and take deep breaths. “Still getting used to having a married name, dear? I remember it took me months.”

“Something like that,” said Tonks.

“She’s Mrs Prince now,” said Snape, “but she’s usually known as Tonks.”

“Tonks?” said Morag. “Now there’s an unusual name.”

“Yes,” said Tonks, “that’s the unusual name.” Snape was smirking at her and she couldn’t help smiling back at him. Her heart was fluttering in utter betrayal of all that was happening around them and she let her hand slip from his. “I’m going to do the shopping, try not to get in trouble.”

Glancing back, she found him still watching her. She was never far enough away to miss the conversation between Snape and Morag which she heard him steer towards finding out more about the village. 

“It’s been lovely to meet you, Mr Prince,” said Morag, as Snape held the door open for Tonks, “and you, too, Mrs Prince.” Morag’s eyes crinkled and her smile grew. “Have a lovely day, my dears!”

Snape and Tonks said more thank yous and then the door was closing behind them, the bell tinkling.

“Prince?” she said, her hand back in his without a second thought, as they walked back towards the cottage.

Snape sighed and shot a glance at Tonks who was looking out across the sea. “My mother’s maiden name.” Tonks looked at him in surprise and he shrugged. “Small, but it’s another layer of cover.”

“Mrs Prince,” said Tonks, finding the name odd on her lips, and realising she had said out loud what she was repeating in her head. 

“You dislike it?”

“I wasn’t expecting it.”

Their pace didn’t falter and neither did their hold on each other but they didn’t say another word or catch the other looking until they were approaching the gate. Tonks let Snape’s hand go and before he could say anything, she put her arm around him.

“Just until we get to the door,” she said.

He nodded and put his arm around her shoulders. Their hold on each other tightened when they crossed the wards. At the door, she let go of him slowly and dug in her pocket for the keys. He followed her inside. He didn’t like how he kept thinking about the name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations by both artists are on Tumblr, too, and can be found with links via [the Tumblr Masterpost](https://marshmallowmcgonagall.tumblr.com/post/616611783731560448/the-selkie-and-the-cursed-prince).

**May 10th Sunday**

**11am**

“There’s no fireplace,” said Snape, standing in front of the shelves full of books which spanned the wall at the back of the cottage. He glanced at Tonks who was reading a dog eared paperback with yellowing pages.

“Which means no Floo connection can be forced or tracked,” she said, not looking up. “Safe house, remember?”

Snape picked out a book about the islands from the shelf and flipped through it until he found the contents page. Tonks risked a glance at him and watched the muscles in his back move beneath his top as he put the book back and pulled out another one.

“There are no wizarding books,” he said.

“How many times do I have to tell you this is meant to be a safe house before you believe me?” She shifted further down the sofa so she was lying with her legs stretched out and feet up on the cushions.

“Must that mean a lack of reading choices?”

“It means somewhere free of magic.”

“Apart from wards and charms and wedding rings,” he said, taking the book back to the armchair.

“Auror,” she said, putting the book face down on her stomach. “I’m reducing any intrusion of Dark Magic. My deepest apologies for the inconvenience that’s causing you.”

There was the hint of a smile tugging at her lips and she pushed her hair out of her face.

“Not even books about Dark Magic?” he said. “You can put up wards but I can’t read a book?” Tonks’s gaze went against her will to the book she had been reading. Snape coughed. “You smuggled something in?”

“No,” she shot back, pushing herself up until she was sitting. She folded the corner of the page over and put the book down. At his glance, she said, “I don’t have a bookmark, don’t judge.”

“What Dark Magic is in that, then?” 

“Nothing that would interest you.” 

“Try me.”

“If she isn’t careful,” snapped Tonks, “the heroine is going to leave her heart with a man who doesn’t care for her when they part ways.”

“Why doesn’t he care for her?” he asked, quietly.

“At best he’s oblivious,” she said, “at worst he’s cold hearted.”

“Do you know how it ends?”

“I’m not sure I want to,” she said, with a tight smile.

Their gazes didn’t drift from each other until Tonks leapt up and walked across the room. Snape caught her eyes shining and heard her sniff as she stepped outside. He sunk back in the armchair and stared at the book sitting innocuously on the sofa. He wanted a fire he could throw the book into. He wanted to ask her why the heroine would leave her heart in the first place—her heart could only belong to her—there wasn’t a claim on it to be staked. 

The dry grass was springy beneath Tonks’s bare feet and she jogged across the garden to the shed which doubled as a small owlery. 

“Nelly?” said Tonks, quietly. She waited a few minutes, crossing and uncrossing her arms as she rolled her toes over the grass. “Nelly?”

There was a ruffle of feathers and the scraping of talons on wood. Nelly flew out of the shed and onto Tonks’s outstretched arm. Tonks swallowed the wince that came as Nelly’s weight pressed his talons into her skin. She patted her shoulder and Nelly scrabbled up with a sleepy flutter. Tonks walked slowly back to the cottage, wondering what good it would do to flip straight to the end of the book. It wouldn’t matter if the heroine ran to the man’s arms, if he swept her up, if he apologised. Tonks sniffed and drew a deep breath. Snape had given Tonks something the heroine hadn’t been given by her man. He’d been clear that he didn’t care for her. She didn’t need to look for reasons or hope for a change of heart.

Tonks clicked her tongue and patted the arm of the sofa. Nelly hopped down and gave Snape what could only be considered a look of disgust. The owl ruffled his feathers as Tonks crouched down beside the sofa and searched through the holdall. She pulled out a writing set and sat with her back against the shelves, taking a large book from beside her to lean on.

“What do you want?” she said. At Snape’s curious expression, Tonks felt her cheeks burn. “I’m going to owl Moody and ask him to send some books. You were right, I’ve been told to put up wards, I’ve got the wedding ring and Nelly, so a couple of books should be okay.” Nelly made a noise of contentment.

“Why are you doing this?”

“It’s a couple of books,” she said. “I’m not giving you your freedom.”

“Tonks—”

“Just tell me what books you want.” She was looking at the parchment in front of her, and twirling the pen in her fingers, the weight of it odd in her hand when she was used to a quill. “Or journals.” She started to write. “I can’t promise what Moody will send.”

“You’re going to pay for the pleasure?” he drawled.

She looked up, the steadiness in her eyes that which usually accompanied her wand being pointed at the person talking to her.

“You’re under investigation,” she said, doing all she could to keep her voice calm. “The first thing they do after arrests is freeze Gringotts accounts.” She swallowed. “I don’t know what they’ve done to your accounts but for the sake of some books, no, I don’t mind paying.” Stop, she told herself, just stop. “You have cost me far, far more than the Galleons for a few books. This won’t hurt me at all.”

He stood up, book in hand, and gave her the titles of three books and two journals before leaving. The bedroom door wasn’t slammed shut but hearing the handle click in place as wood met wood was too much. Tonks wrote down his requests and a note for Moody. She tied the parchment to Nelly’s leg and watched him fly away once he had given her an affectionate nip. Pawing at her eyes and sniffing, she put away the leftover parchment and pens, and got up. She stopped outside the bedroom door, wanting to turn the handle, wanting to say sorry, wanting to beg for an answer.

“I’m going to shower,” she said, looking up at the ceiling before going into the bathroom. The door shut, surrounded by the Silencing Charm, she sunk to the floor.

He heard the bathroom door close and opened the bedroom door with care. She would be able to hear him and he leant against the door frame, his head aching the longer he stayed in proximity to the Silencing Charm. He knew she would shower before she came out, her hair would be a towel-dried mess which she would try to untangle with her fingers. Merlin, he missed the way she would let her damp hair drip over the Daily Prophet on long mornings in bed. She would shriek with laughter when he threatened drying charms if her hair dripped on his potions journals despite her pleas that drying charms did horrible things to her hair. He would bet Galleons she was on the floor in tears. He rubbed his forehead and went to lie down. Magic was trying to kill him and he was destroying her in the process. Nothing new, then.

  
  
  
  


**May 12th Tuesday**

**11am**

Nelly turned up a few minutes before the Daily Prophet’s subscription owl. Nelly flew in through the open door and with his outstretched wing caught Snape on the head. Tonks blushed and didn’t quite manage her smirk before hurrying to take the parcel and rolled up parchment from Nelly. The Daily Prophet owl didn’t know better and flew to Snape. He took a deep breath and managed to take the newspaper from the owl. Tonks clicked her tongue and the owl flew to her to get a treat before leaving. Nelly downed a treat and hopped onto Tonks’s shoulder while she read the letter. 

“You go sleep or hunt,” said Tonks, reaching up to stroke Nelly. “Yes, you are a beautiful boy, aren’t you?”

Snape coughed and as Nelly flew out of the cottage, his wing caught Snape’s head again.

“He must be tired,” said Tonks.

“Quite,” said Snape. 

Taking the parcel, she rubbed her shoulder where Nelly’s talons had dug in through the light t-shirt. She walked over to the armchair where Snape was sitting and almost fell over when she stopped. She regained her balance, tripped and fell into his lap. Their forced politeness of the past two days ended with his hands on her hips. He did it without thinking and her first instinct wasn’t to move. They looked at each other, too many deep breaths before she jumped up.

“Sorry,” she said, handing him the parcel. “Books, if you still want them.”

She went to the sofa and curled up, spreading the parchment over her lap. “Moody and Kingsley are coming tomorrow.” 

“Moody and Kingsley?” said Snape. The parcel was still in his hands, the twine around the brown paper, his gaze on her. “Why are they coming?”

“Draco.” 

“What’s happening to him?” 

“I don’t know,” said Tonks, looking up from the parchment. “Moody isn’t one for putting details in writing. You know: constant vigilance.”

“Tonks.”

“They want you to corroborate the evidence Draco’s been giving,” she said, standing up.

She handed him the parchment and was about to go back to the sofa when she knelt down and took the parcel from him while he read the letter. She unwrapped the books and journals, folding up the paper and rolling the twine around her fingers.

He read, hoping for news about Draco, but Tonks had been right about Moody’s brevity. Draco—Draco couldn’t be in Azkaban. All Snape could hold onto was hoping he would find out tomorrow. Tonks was flipping through one of the books when Snape reread the note scrawled in a different script at the bottom of the parchment.

“Does Kingsley always add postscripts to Moody’s owls?” asked Snape. Tonks looked up and he could see her trying to figure out whether or not she should let herself smile. “Please don’t kill him?”

“Moody gave up stopping Kingsley adding to his owls years ago,” she said. “And Kingsley,” she took a deep breath, realising how she was positioned in front of him, and stood up, “he knows Moody is happier the less paperwork he has to deal with.” She handed him all but one of the books and journals. “For you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “When this is all sorted out, I’ll see that the Galleons are returned to your vault.”

“Wouldn’t want to be in debt to me, huh?”

They’d been so close and they both looked away. Tonks returned to the sofa with her book and Snape rubbed his face. They returned to being polite, to stealing glances, to taking too long to turn pages as their focus wandered across floorboards.

  
  
  
  


**May 13th Wednesday**

**10.57am**

Tonks jumped up from the doorstep when she saw the car coming up the track towards the cottage. She ran the few steps to the garden gate and Snape shielded his eyes from the bright morning sunlight as he stood leaning in the doorway.

Kingsley was the first out of the car, followed by Moody who slammed his door shut and shoved the car keys in his pocket. Tonks all but launched herself at Moody who was looking at Snape.

“He’s still alive then,” said Moody.

Tonks gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then went to hug Kingsley who held her in a tight embrace.

“Missed me?” said Tonks, looking up into Kingsley’s dark eyes.

“You’ve no idea,” said Kingsley, and at his low laugh he hugged her close again. They swayed on the spot for a moment.

“Are you done?” barked Moody.

“She missed me,” said Kingsley, walking up the path with his arm around Tonks’s shoulders while she had her arm around his waist.

“How was your journey?” said Snape, stepping back as Moody walked into the cottage with Kingsley and Tonks a few feet behind him.

“I still love him,” said Kingsley, “but I don’t love his driving.”

Moody rolled both eyes.

“That bad?” said Snape.

“He drives like he flies,” said Kingsley.

Tonks succumbed to a coughing fit which failed entirely to hide her laughter. Snape allowed himself a smile which Moody and Kingsley caught and Tonks missed as she put her arms around Kingsley again. He patted her on the back.

“Tea?” said Tonks.

“Please,” said Kingsley.

Tonks put the kettle on and made four cups of tea, shooting a glare when Moody complained that he wasn’t getting coffee. They filled the minutes with updates about the Ministry. Conspicuously benign conversation. Tonks handed out the tea and was met with thanks.

“Tonks,” said Kingsley, “we need to talk to Severus.”

Her smile tightened and she looked at Snape. Their gazes lingering on each other for too long before she left the cottage pulling the door closed behind her. They watched her pass by the window, looking at the sea as she picked her way through the wildflowers, one arm outstretched with her cup of tea in hand as she went to the furthest part of the garden, winding her way through different shrubs before finding a patch of grass to sit on.

“So the two of you haven’t worked things out?” said Moody, stomping over to the sofa.

“I gathered you know,” said Snape.

A gust of sea air whipped up Tonks’s hair.

“She hasn’t killed you,” noted Kingsley, sitting down beside Moody.

“I saw the letter.” He watched her hands as she swept her hair back. “She hates me but she isn’t going to disobey direct orders.”

“Hates you?” said Moody, with a laugh of disbelief. “That’s not the impression we got.”

“She didn’t know if I was dead or alive. She experienced nothing more than an automatic reaction.”

“And you think she hates you?” said Kingsley.

“I know she does,” said Snape, looking away from the window and walking over to the armchair. “What’s going on with Draco?”

Tonks wasn’t wearing a watch but she watched the shadows change in the garden. Her cup of tea sat empty on the grass beside her and she was making progress on a second daisy chain when she heard the front door.

“Get up, Tonks,” said Moody. “I’m not traipsing through all this to come and get you.”

She groaned as she clambered up off the dry grass, her body aching where she hadn’t moved from the firm earth. She knew she had dusty patches across her legs. Moody smiled as she picked her way back through the garden, empty mug in one hand, daisy chain in the other, another daisy chain like a circlet on her head, and streaks of dust on one of her cheeks. 

She saw Kingsley and Snape standing further away at the front door, watching her and talking quietly.

“Have fun?” said Moody.

Tonks shrugged and put the daisy chain she had been holding on Moody’s head. She gave Moody her mug, and on tiptoes, she stretched and adjusted the daisy chain, her tongue between her teeth as she made sure it sat just right. Kingsley’s low chuckle carried on the breeze.

“Tonks?”

“What’s going on, then?” she said, taking back the empty mug.

“It’s up to Severus to tell you what he discussed with us,” said Moody.

Her eyes hardened. She knew the rules. They were the same as they had always been. He watched her control her expression and nod.

“I can tell you Draco is under house arrest as it stands.”

Tonks nodded.

“The Wizengamot are being difficult and despite everything, money talks.”

“Of course it does.” She rubbed her forehead, spreading the dirt.

“You need to keep the wards up.”

“He hasn’t got a wand,” she protested, “he can’t—he can’t do anything.”

“They want him kept weakened,” said Moody, unable to keep his own frustrations completely at bay. "Recovered but not too much."

“That’s gross.” She shot a troubled glance at Snape and looked away as quickly.

“I’m doing the best I can,” said Moody.

Tonks nodded and bit her thumb as her gaze wandered to Snape again.

“Kingsley and I need to catch the next ferry, lass.” He put his arm around her and they walked slowly back up the garden.

“You really think she hates you?” said Kingsley, quietly.

“She survived the war,” murmured Snape, “that’s all that matters.”

There were goodbyes and hugs, then Moody and Kingsley were getting back into the car. Tonks stayed at the garden gate and waved until they were out of sight.

“Did you ask her?” said Kingsley, as the car bumped along the tarmac which some called a road.

“Didn’t need to,” said Moody.

Snape was sitting down reading pieces of parchment when Tonks came back inside. There were three mugs by the sink and she took her own over. Washing the mugs didn’t take minutes. She dried her hands and wandered over to the sofa, sitting down so slowly that she stumbled and fell back into the cushions causing the daisy chain to fall into her lap. She leant across the sofa and grabbed the shawl pulling it around her. 

Snape looked up, unable to stop the smirk when he saw the dirt still on her cheek.

“You have something against daisy chains?” said Tonks, picking up the small flower crown and brushing her fingers over the knots which formed the circlet.

“No,” he said. She glanced up at him and he folded up the parchment. “Would you rather dance around this or do you want to know what’s happening?”

“Moody only told me that Draco is under house arrest.”

Snape gave an empty laugh. “I’m sure that’s all you were told.”

Tonks put the daisy chain on her head and leant back against the sofa, arms crossed. He ran his thumb along the crease of the parchment. 

“I know you’re still under investigation,” she admitted.

“And?”

She shook her head. “What about my uncles and aunts?” Then a frown dashed across her features. “Aunt.”

“Lucius is in Azkaban, though who knows for how long given that he is still managing to pay for things.”

“Aunt Narcissa’s Black vaults probably,” said Tonks. “Ministry doesn’t usually freeze spouse accounts.”

“It would be hard to practice corruption otherwise.”

“Kingsley wants to change things,” she said, quietly.

“Narcissa isn’t under house arrest but I gather she doesn’t quite have her freedom, either.” He glanced at her fingers fiddling with the edge of the shawl. “Rodolphus is dead.”

Tonks looked surprised for a moment. She had never met Rodolphus outside of battle and he wasn’t a blood relative, still there was a strange feeling in her gut as she considered he was gone. Her family was scarred by war and blood.

“But Draco’s okay?” she said. “I know we haven’t, that we aren’t, but he—he’s—”

“He’s still family,” said Snape.

“What about you?”

He pinned her with his gaze and she looked down, her hair tumbling past her shoulders, her fingers stopping the daisy chain from slipping further.

“The investigations are ongoing,” said Snape.

“You’re still stuck with me.”

“There are worse punishments.”

The silence was grim and reminded Tonks of the moments after a fight when the dust settled. When wands were still drawn but bodies were on the ground. She rose slowly and walked towards him, hand extended.

“I’m not up for a walk, but you need to get out of the cottage,” she said. “I can show you the boundaries of the wards.”

He looked up at her and stood. He wanted to take her hand but couldn’t make himself close the distance. She reached out and slipped her hand in his. Without a second glance, she led him from the cottage. Whenever they neared the boundaries where the wards were anchored to the earth, she was waiting for his tightening grip. She led him through the garden. The fresh sea air stirred up her hair and he watched her barefoot ease in covering the ground. In the distance, seals were basking on the beach and sheep grazed in fields. Seagulls flew across the sea, diving into the water and at times just bobbing on the surface. At the furthest edge of the garden, they ended up in shadow beneath a tree.

A gusting breeze rolled off the sea and lifted Tonks’s daisy chain from her head, sending it into the wildflowers. Tonks’s gaze followed the breeze before she glanced at Snape. She wanted to lean against him, have his arms around her.

“Just flowers,” she said, shrugging.

His grip on her tightened and he rubbed his forehead.

“Too close?”

“Yes,” he said, simply. She nodded and led him back through the garden, further from the boundaries. There was a small clearing amongst the wildflowers. “Stop.”

“What?”

“We can stay outside a little longer,” he said. “It’s easier here.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

They sat on the ground and before long, he eased himself down, his arm behind his head, his eyes closed. She stayed beside him, only moving away to pick more daisies. She threaded the flowers together and glanced at him from time to time, missing each occasion that he opened his eyes to watch her for brief moments. In the afternoon sunshine, the battlefield disappeared for a precious fraction of time.

  
  
  


**May 14th Thursday**

**2am**

Tonks’s screams pierced the night with unrelenting agony and Snape jolted awake. He found her thrashing on the sofa and crouched down beside her, his hands grabbing her arms before she could hurt herself or him. He thought her throat must have been raw from screaming.

“Tonks,” he said. “Tonks, you’re having a nightmare.”

“Severus,” she gasped. Her eyes were opening for seconds longer each time though ragged breaths still threatened to rip her apart. She reached to touch his face and he let her wrists go as if unsure whether or not he was part of her nightmare. Her fingers on his cheek, she lunged towards him, burying her head in his shoulder. His hesitation broke the spell and her hot breaths against his bare shoulder moved further away and she shrank back, pushing her hair from her sweaty face. “Oh, Merlin.”

“You’ve been putting up Silencing Charms at night,” he stated, simply.

“How did you—”

“My headaches are usually worse than this when I wake up,” he said. And it was so painfully something she would do that it hurt not to wonder how long she had been doing it for.

“It’s been a long day,” she muttered. “I forgot.”

“No more Silencing Charms?”

“What about disturbing you?”

“You could just come to bed in the first place,” he said, quietly. He wanted to push the loose strands of hair from her face but he didn’t dare touch her. 

“Can we do that?”

“It’s simpler than doing this.” He stood up. “What do you usually do after you have nightmares?”

“Go back to sleep,” she said, quickly. “What else would I do?”

“Nothing, I’m sure.”

“You haven’t been waking me up with nightmares,” she said, with some suspicion.

He shrugged. “Occlumency has its advantages and at this point it’s ingrained in me.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course,” he said.

She watched him walk away, the pyjamas slung low on his hips and his top half bare. Then he was gone. 

Tonks sunk back on the sofa and covered her face with her hands, fighting every desire to reach for her wand and search the cottage for Death Eaters and Dark Magic. He hadn’t closed the bedroom door and she heard the creak of the mattress and the rustle of sheets. She got up from the sofa. Pillow in hand, she padded through to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway. Though it was dark, she could make out his features as he lay in bed watching her. She took a few steps closer and he pulled the blankets back.

“How long have you been having nightmares?” he asked.

“About a year,” she said. “Which is also the last time I went to bed with someone.” She ran her hand through her hair. “Oh, Merlin.”

“A year?”

“I’ve been busy,” she snapped.

“I was talking about the nightmares.”

“I—I don’t know how to do this.”

“Easy,” he said. “You get in, lie down, and go to sleep.”

She put her pillow down beside his and sat on the edge of the mattress. Her fingers twitched with the instinct to reach out to him. She lay on her back, turning her head to look at him as he lifted the blankets over her.

“Nothing has to happen, Tonks.”

“I know.”

  
  


**4.46am**

Tonks sighed, the body against hers warm and familiar. The arm around her waist one she had missed. The back beneath her hand one she had traced the scars of for hours on end. She opened her eyes and in the light of the rising sun which edged past the curtains she saw his black hair had fallen across his face. His eyes were closed and it was only when she heard seagulls screeching that she froze. Her breaths came faster and her eyes darted across their entangled bodies. She was still wearing her pyjamas. Her hand moved lower across his back and she was grateful to feel the soft cotton on his hips. Easing herself back, with halting movements, she extracted herself from the bed and grabbed her pillow. The nightmare echoed around her as she watched him sigh in his sleep. She retreated to the sofa and curled up beneath the blanket she left there during the night. She tried to ignore the regret at leaving the bed.

  
  


**8am**

When he woke, Snape propped himself up, aware of how the throbbing headache wasn’t as bad as usual. Then he remembered why. He knew she wasn’t in the bed and still he looked at the space where she had been. He lay back down and rubbed his face. It had taken a nightmare for her to say his name and she had been willfully keeping her distance though she was waking in terror. He tried to shake off the strange dreams that she had been in his arms again. It would do no good to indulge fantasies.

  
  


**2.15pm**

Tonks had been evading Snape by way of an extended trip to the shop, a long shower, and taking her time hanging up sheets on the washing line. The sheets blew like the sails of a yacht. He watched her push the washing aside, the laundry basket held against her hip as she ducked beneath the billowing cloth. He returned his attention to the book on curses he was trying to read. Snape closed his eyes, wondering when the pain would lessen, wondering if recovery was possible, wondering if they were trying to ease him into a darker truth.

  
  


**10.20pm**

He had been toying with the idea of whether Occlumency was hampering his recovery when he rubbed his forehead and knew he needed to sleep. His tolerance for sleep deprivation was all but non-existent now. Tonks wasn’t even in her pyjamas, but curled up on one end of the sofa, reading. He closed the book which had been going ignored on his lap. 

“Good night,” she said, glancing at him when he stood up.

“Good night.”

He had known in all likelihood that she wouldn’t come to bed again. There were always other charms to be tried, other ways to cast, other reasons to do all she could to stay where she was. He turned off the light and got into bed fully expecting to wake up alone and with his headache worsened.

  
  
  
  


**May 15th Friday**

**2.34am**

Her scream ripped apart the quiet in the cottage, and her arm hit his body in her panic. His shock was easy to push aside when he realised what was happening. He stroked her arms and repeated her name until she calmed enough to stop fighting things which weren’t there. She curled up against him and when he put his hand on her waist, she shimmied closer.

  
  


**8am**

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he woke, but he had the distinct feeling he hadn’t imagined hearing her get out of bed.

  
  


**1pm**

Tonks was chopping vegetables and trying to stir what was already in the pan when Snape came over, leaving his book on the counter. Another book on curses. She glanced up at him, and wondered if he was any closer to finding the answers he was looking for.

“You look like you need help,” he said.

“I’m not a domesticated witch,” she said. “Death Eaters I can handle, too many pans, not so much.”

“You stir, I’ll chop.”

“It’s comfort food, Snape,” she said, “not fine dining.” He shot her a glance which made the ache throb again. She stepped in front of the cooker and eyed the pan with annoyance as she wielded the spatula. “You’re really okay doing this?”

“I have been known to prepare ingredients before,” he said, with a small laugh. 

“You’re okay standing for this long,” she said, in a rush.

“I will be okay,” he said. “Where did you learn Muggle cooking, anyway?”

“Muggle grandparents,” she reminded him.

“Of course,” he said. “It slipped my mind.”

“My Muggle heritage wasn’t exactly a focus of our conversations.”

“No.” His slicing was precise in a way that irritated Tonks for how it affected her. He glanced up at her and she returned to stirring. “That was often your choice.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Any Muggle heritage?” 

“My father,” he said, “was a Muggle.”

“Your father was a Muggle?” The spatula clanged against the pan and she rushed to pick it up. Snape didn’t appear to notice.

“Who disliked magic, yet married a Pureblood.” He didn’t know why he was telling her. Was it to make up for all the conversations which had to be cut short? He kept his gaze on the chopping board. “My mother would cook—the obedient housewife—and while she did, she taught me how to prepare ingredients.” With the knife, he pushed aside the precision cut vegetables and moved onto the next. “It wasn’t until years later I realised she was trying to teach me what she could before I went to Hogwarts.”

“Is your mother still—”

“No.” The word fell sharply between them. 

“Did they know?” 

He stopped slicing and turned to look at her. The swirling trouble in her soft brown eyes. The darting glance.

“My family is full of Death Eaters,” she said, with a poor attempt at a smile. 

“I know.” 

“Draco—”

“Is nothing like his father or aunt,” he said, returning to the knife.

“Good.” The word was strangled on her lips and she couldn’t look at him. The fully fledged Death Eater. The spy who hadn’t always worked for the Light.

“The onions getting to you?”

“Yes,” she choked out, letting herself sniff and wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. The aroma from oils being released by the freshly cut herbs began to surround her and when she glanced back at him it was with unstoppable nostalgia. She wanted to shove it to the furthest reaches of memory where it belonged, and instead she watched his hands move with practiced ease before murmuring, “No magic.” She was grateful that he pretended not to hear her. She turned her attention back to the pan and when the preparation was done, she said nothing as he leant against the counter, ostensibly to help with anything she needed fetched, when all he did was watch her.

  
  
  
  


**May 16th Saturday**

**11.47am**

“Is there anything you want me to do?” he said, as she winced.

She was curled up with a hot water bottle against her abdomen and the shawl around her shoulders. A book lay open and ignored on the floor.

“Go away,” she said, listlessly.

In the holdall there were Muggle remedies and Tonks wanted nothing to do with them. She wanted potions and charms. She was making do with expletives each time she moved. Snape sat down in the armchair.

“That’s the opposite of going away,” she said, but nonetheless shifting so she could see him more easily.

“You made that hot water bottle hours ago,” he said. “It can’t still be warm unless you’re using charms, and as I remain capable of standing, I suspect you’re not using magic.”

“Can’t I suffer in peace?”

“As I’ve not been afforded that luxury, I fail to see why you should.”

Tonks clambered off the sofa and refilled the hot water bottle, leaning heavily against the counter while the kettle boiled, and taking several attempts to get the stopper back in place. She curled up on the sofa again and watched him read until her eyes were heavy with tiredness and she drifted off. 

  
  
  
  


**May 17th Sunday**

**1am**

Her nightmare released its grip on her within minutes and as she tried to get comfortable, she held the hot water bottle closer. Her source of comfort should have been lukewarm at best this long after being made, but a comfortable heat pressed against her. Snape’s breathing tumbled towards the heaviness of sleep again and his arm was around her. She stroked his hand and tried to reconcile what shouldn’t have been possible with the person she was leaning against.

  
  
  
  


**May 18th Monday**

**5pm**

What was meant to be one bad day settled into several, and with the pain beginning to lift, Tonks still held onto the hot water bottle like it was a rare artefact. For a second night she woke to find the hot water bottle warmer than it should have been. Neither of them said a word. The forced politeness somehow became a comfortable place. And she didn’t like it. She wanted to say thank you. She wanted to ask him why he cared. She watched him read and missed the glances he shot her each time her eyes closed for moments too long.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**May 20th Wednesday**

**10.15am**

Tonks grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself. Not bothering to turn off the shower, she ran out of the bathroom, bubbles of shampoo and shower wash streaking across her hair and skin. Her hand slamming against the wall, she slid to a halt, a pool of water in her wake.

“What—what’s going—” her words were cut off by the squabbling owls, and Snape looked at her with amused surprise, his smile growing when he saw her pink hair.

Nelly and the Daily Prophet owl were at the table, and in furious disagreement with each other. Snape finally released the newspaper from the subscription owl. With one final indignant screech, the owl flew off. Nelly made a sound of displeasure and upon seeing Tonks flew to her, landing on Tonks’s shoulder. She winced as his talons dug into her bare wet skin, his letter and parcel thumping against her as he ruffled his feathers and clicked his beak.

“The wards,” she groaned. “I thought—I thought something had happened.”

“A young owl,” said Snape, “without the manners Nelly deemed acceptable.”

“So I see,” said Tonks. “Oh, Nelly.” She winced again but nonetheless tilted her head towards Nelly who leaned against her. She reached around to the parcel and letter, but her fingers fumbled with the twine. She shot a glare at Snape. “Help? Please? It’s Nelly or the towel.” He hesitated for a moment and she chewed her lip. 

Snape came over and his fingers brushing her skin as he made quick work of the ties. The parcel and the letter on the table, she looked at the floor, trying to suppress a shiver. Nelly gave Tonks an affectionate nip and flew off with a stop by the box of owl treats. Snape touched the red marks left by Nelly’s talons on her shoulder and Tonks turned to look at Snape. At her sharp intake of breath, he stepped away and went to sit down. She had only just stopped herself leaning closer to him. 

“You weren’t expecting post?” he asked.

“I forgot.” She swept her hair back and froze but for her gaze which darted to him. She swallowed and couldn’t take her eyes off him as her hair returned to her natural brown. There was the smallest smile playing on his lips and she wanted to ask him to come back. “I owled mum and dad.” She had to bring the parchment close to her body so she could hold the towel as well while she tried to ease the letter open. She swore, put the letter down, and returned to the bathroom.

  
  


**11am**

Hair still damp, Tonks leant against the kitchen counter, the parcel beside her and one of the letters in her hand. She would shift from foot to foot before flipping between sheets of parchment. Snape moved around her to put the kettle on and make more tea for them both. She glanced at him and huffed.

She undid the parcel and he paused when he saw the bundles of herbs tied carefully with twine. Taking each one and turning it in her hands, a soft smile graced her lips as she rubbed leaves between her fingers before moving onto the next bundle. Snape put a mug of tea a little distance from the parcel and leant against the counter while he held his own mug, the small spiral of steam twisting through the air.

“I wanted comfort food,” she said, quietly, “real comfort food.”

“And that’s what this is?”

She picked up the letter and put it back on the counter. “A Muggle recipe from my Muggle grandparents.” When she touched the parchment her smile grew. “I asked dad to send it to me, and he sent the herbs, too.”

Tonks drifted into her own world as she cooked, saying nothing as Snape watched her while he drank his tea. There were hints of a bounce in her step, of the beginnings of twirls, flashes of smiles threatening to give way to laughter. She had a piece of home and he found her intoxicating. She said nothing when his expression softened as she hummed seconds of tunes before remembering where she was and who was with her.

  
  
  
  


**May 21st Thursday**

**8pm**

The soapy dishwater sloshed in the basin as Tonks cleaned another plate. She heard the slice of the newspaper page being turned and she closed her eyes. Grabbing a dishcloth, she turned and dried her hands in a rough movement before throwing the cloth on the side where it slid to the floor. Snape looked up at the soft thump of fabric on wood.

“Did you have to be so cruel?” she said, her voice catching. Her eyes were red and she bit her lip so hard she winced and licked her lips.

He rose from the chair and flung the Daily Prophet onto the table.

“Yes,” he said, simply. “You wouldn’t have let go as easily if I wasn’t.” He had known, with the creeping sense of knowing something is present in the dark but being unable to see it in the shadows. He had known she would cave to the need to ask.

“I didn’t let—I had to listen to everything they said about you.” The burn of threatening tears spread through her. “Everything.”

“And you believed it,” he sneered.

“Harry saw you kill Dumbledore!” she cried, bringing the back of her hand to her mouth. “You were part of Voldemort’s regime. What was I supposed to think?” The plea seemed to be of herself as much as of him. Days, nights, weeks. Months of wondering. Time hadn’t healed this wound and she felt haunted by what they once had. 

“Then I did my work well.” He stepped closer and with a flash of pain in his features, he asked, “Did you have no doubts?”

She could have touched him without having to stretch. Her fingers flexed and balled into fists before releasing so she could wipe her cheeks. His dark eyes searched hers and her gaze drifted to his mouth.

“I couldn’t—what I knew—there were,” her voice caught, “there were people on our side willing to behave as badly as the ones on yours.” She held her head high and knew she was barely keeping the flood gates closed. She wasn’t trying to hold back a river, she was trying to hold back an ocean. Her chest heaved and her body ran with goosebumps. “Or do you think I should have just paid the price and told the Order I’d been fucking their Death Eater for a year?” 

His head turned as if he’d been slapped and an angry laugh burned out moments after he looked back at her. “Fucking?” he said, the word leaving his lips in a violent snarl.

“No,” she whispered, beginning to reach out to him before bringing her hand to her abdomen. “That’s not—no—”

“Oh, I think you’ve made yourself quite clear.” He turned and walked towards the bedroom. “Not long and you will be free of me.”

  
  
  
  


**May 22nd Friday**

**1.17am**

She screamed as if she was being cursed. The seconds passed like hours while he held her, repeating her name while terror forced itself through her veins. Her hands grasped him, ragged breaths coming quickly as the screams descended into whimpers, the nightmare falling away as her eyes opened for longer each time.

“You’re alive,” she choked out. “You’re alive.”

“We’re both alive,” he said, softly. “We’re both safe.”

Still gasping and sniffing, her hands drifted up to his face, then her eyes widened and she bolted from the bed, grabbing the door frame as she stumbled from the room. He lay back and stared at the doorway. What had he done to her?

She paced around the kitchen and living area, looking at the bedroom door each time it was in sight, only able to see the very end of the bed. She rubbed her face and walked slowly back to the bedroom. He turned his head to look at her. His arm was outstretched on the bed, his Dark Mark visible even in the low light. She climbed back in and neither said a word as she pressed herself against him. Her head on the pillow, she met his gaze.

“Nothing has to happen,” he murmured.

“I know,” she whispered, as he put his arms around her and she closed what little distance there was. Though for the briefest moment, she wondered if he had been about to kiss her. Either way, his touch, his lips on hers would hurt. For everything he could give her in the heat of the moment, she would get burned.

  
  


**4.46am**

The creak of the floorboards pulled him from sleep and he realised she wasn't beside him. Her pillow was gone. He ran his hand across the sheets which were still warm from where she had lain. 

  
  
  
  


**May 23rd Saturday**

**10.15am**

Tonks removed the Daily Prophet from the owl’s leg and gave the newspaper to Snape. The owl allowed Tonks to stroke its head after having a treat then it flew out the door. Snape unrolled the paper and his quiet sigh was lost amidst the noise of the kettle boiling. Teaspoons clunked against the mugs as Tonks made tea.

The front page revelled in its “exclusive” headline: Death Eater Severus Snape was in hiding. Suspected to be under the guard of Auror Nymphadora Tonks. Beneath the stark black words which covered a third of the page, there were two photos side by side, the subjects standing tall and unamused: Snape in his official headmaster of Hogwarts photo and Tonks in her official Auror photo. Below the pictures there was an invitation for readers to learn more about the Daily Prophet’s exclusive inside. 

He glanced up at Tonks when she opened the fridge, and she looked at him, expectantly. A slight shake of his head and he returned to reading an article filled with his past as a Death Eater, his actions over the past year, and his connections to Voldemort’s other followers. In less detail were the mentions of Harry continuing to vouch for him, of his actions during the battle, and the ongoing investigations. Then there were the articles written about Tonks. No declaration of how she fought for the Light, but several comments on the number of Aurors who served under Voldemort’s regime, neatly bypassing how she had gone into hiding with the rest of the Order.

He had only himself to be torn apart. He saw her family shredded across pages. Was her position guarding a former Death Eater wise when she was connected to so many? Wasn’t it suspicious how she wasn’t being allowed to help in the efforts to restore order to Wizarding Britain? An aunt and uncle dead. Other family members under house arrest, including her cousin. If Draco was a Death Eater, who was to say she wasn’t? And well, a metamorphmagus could change their appearance at will. Was it safe to have people like that working for the Ministry? There was no telling what they could be hiding. An unnamed Healer was quoted in one article revealing how easy it would be for a metamorphmagus to conceal a Dark Mark. Snape was almost finished reading when Tonks placed a mug of tea in front of him. 

She didn’t move. He glanced up and saw her focus on the Daily Prophet. Her steady hand reached out and took the paper from him. She walked away not saying a word. He stood up and followed her.

“Tonks?”

She flipped through the pages, the paper crunching beneath her grip when she stopped at the articles about them. Her breathing was unnaturally even and he watched the tension creeping across her shoulders.

She folded the paper up, drew her wand from under her top, and in one swift movement followed by another, hurled the paper into the air and caused it to disappear in a ball of fire. Snape collapsed. He made no sound and it was only when his body hit the floor that Tonks turned around. 

“Severus!” Her composure gave way to panic and she dived to the floor, her hands racing to check his breathing. She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, leaning forward with her hands on his body and his face. “Severus, come on, please.” She rested her forehead against his. “Please don’t leave me.” Her voice broke as there was the barest movement beneath her hand. Her back ached but she didn’t dare move. Her hair slipped over her shoulder and she sniffed as each breath was still too shallow to be certain of. “Please.”

She eased herself down to lie beside him, dragging a cushion from the sofa to put under his head and to rest hers on, too. Over and over she said his name, with pleading, with anger, and with the edges of despair. One moment she was stroking his cheek, the next she jolted awake when she heard a quiet groan. Scrabbling up, she knelt beside him.

“Back in the land of the living?” she said, weakly.

He blinked and groaned again before rubbing his face. “I think so.” He was looking at her oddly.

“Yes?”

"Strange dreams,” he said. “I do recall the Daily Prophet and your interesting method of disposal.” He tried to move and she reached for his hand without thinking.

“I couldn’t bear seeing so many typos,” she said, with an attempt at a smile. “You’d think Nymphadora was a name they’d try to get right.” His wry laugh brought a real smile from her. With measured movements, they both stood up. “You want to go rest?”

“No,” he said, “I would rather like to get away from this place, if only for a while.”

They were about to leave the cottage when Tonks ran back inside and grabbed her shawl. She shot a wary glance at Snape but he said nothing as she slung the shawl around her shoulders, tying the ends in a loose knot. Locking the door, she slipped the keys in her pocket and took his hand. He didn’t resist her touch and she did all she could not to hold on too tightly. 

She kept their pace slow as they crossed the boundaries of the wards and she heard his breathing falter for a few minutes. His grip on her tightened and she responded in kind. 

“Where do you want to go?” she asked, when they paused a little way from the cottage. There was no shopping to be done and previous walks had led them through and around the village. She stared out across the sea and saw dolphins leaping in the distance, their sharp curves cutting through the water.

“Do you need me to say the beach?” 

Her laugh was a small huff of amusement. “I miss the water.” She glanced at him. “Come on, then.” 

Off the track, they slowed down as they crossed the _machair_ and made their way onto the white sands of the beach. His pace began to slow further and she stopped, bringing him to a grateful halt.

“We can sit a while,” she suggested.

“Thank you.”

He lowered himself to the sand. Tonks sat beside him and pulled her knees up, arms wrapped loosely around her legs. The sea air stirred up her hair and she watched the seagulls bobbing up and down on the water. At the other end of the beach there were seals basking on the rocks. She pulled her wand from beneath her top and drew patterns in the sand in front of her. He watched her, his gaze only pulled on occasion to the rest of the world. The waves moved lazily up and down the shore, the clear water in no hurry and a comfortable distance from where they sat.

Tonks rubbed the sand from her wand onto her shorts and slid the wand back in the holster. She undid her boots and took off her socks, shoving the socks into the boots, then getting up. She hesitated for a moment when a gust blew off the sea and lifted the soft linen to her face. With slow movements she undid the knot and took the shawl off. She bit her lip and looked at Snape who was watching her with amused curiosity. Without a word, she handed him the shawl and he gave a small nod, then she was heading towards the water.

She ambled along the damp sand, skipping back when the waves came close to her feet then walking towards the water again. Back and forth she toyed with the sea until she let the small waves crash over her feet. She wandered along the shore, the waves sometimes getting as far as her knees as she pranced through the water and flung her arms out to regain her balance each time the sand threatened to trip her up. From time to time she glanced back. He was where she had left him, and he didn’t bother to hide that he was watching her.

Grey rock sliced through the sand in shards which ranged from inches high to several feet. She made her way across the rocks with careful footsteps and keeping her balance by holding onto the larger shards. A shadow came closer and she turned with care to see him walking towards her, keeping on the sand just above the waterline. He was carrying her boots and shawl.

“You looked stuck,” he said.

“I’m a bloody Auror,” she said. “I should be able to get out of a rockpool.”

“If you can get yourself into it, you should be able to get yourself out of it?”

She stared at him with narrowed eyes and scrunched up her nose in frustration. She looked him up and down. “Are you okay? You look tired.” She tried again to find new footing but stayed where she was with a wobble which threatened to land her in water and sharp rock. “I don’t want to think what would happen first, if you collapsed.” She swore as she nearly lost her footing. “You waking up or the tide coming in.”

“You’d leave me?” he queried.

He reached out, crossing the space where there were no shards tall enough for her to lean on. She took his hand, her sandy fingers soon in his tight grasp. She jumped and stumbled into his arms.

“I had to,” he murmured, as she leant against him.

“What’s necessary can still hurt,” she said, searching his dark eyes. “And even worse because you tell yourself it was for the best and shouldn't hurt.” 

Neither released their hold on the other though their lips parted with words which wouldn’t come. Thundering paws got louder and with a bark they were joined by a Golden Retriever who bounded around them.

“Hello!” called a man. He was walking towards them from further down the beach. The dog bounced up around them and its sandy paws scrabbled at Tonks. “Ah, you must be the newlyweds. The Princes?” The dog barked excitedly and whilst happy to have met two new friends, seemed particularly enchanted by Tonks. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything but Lucy is always pleased to meet new people.”

“Hello Lucy,” said Tonks, and Lucy barked happily in return.

“The Princes, yes,” said Snape, with a small smile as Lucy barged between him and Tonks.

Tonks spun, laughing as Lucy bounced around her. 

“I’m Jimmy,” said the man, shaking hands with Snape.

“You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” said Tonks, taking Lucy’s face in her hands and scratching her behind the ears.

Lucy was thrilled and with another bound had Tonks twirling closer to the sea. Lucy jumped up, her paws on Tonks’s shoulders, sending them both falling into the water. Tonks let out peals of laughter, her delight bringing smiles to Snape and Jimmy.

“That’s a selkie you’ve got there,” said Jimmy, chuckling before he sighed. “It’s magic to think people can change themselves.” Tonks and Snape both looked at Jimmy in surprise. “But of course, you’re not from around here.” He chuckled at the suspicion still lingering in their expressions.

“No,” admitted Snape, “we’re from England.”

Lucy continued to bounce around Tonks as she got up out of the sand and water. She looked down at the dog, soaked in sea water, and scratched her behind the ears again.

“Well the stories go that a man finds a selkie on the beach and takes her seal skin cloak which meant she had to take him as her husband,” said Jimmy, nodding. “Though she would always look to the sea, and if she ever found her seal skin, well the lass would flee.”

Tonks and Snape looked at each other. 

“My cloak is at home,” said Tonks, summoning a laugh. Her fingers caught in Lucy’s fur and her stomach flipped. “So he’s stuck with me for a while longer.” At that, she shivered, her whole body shaking for a moment.

“You best get your selkie home before she catches cold,” said Jimmy, with a fond smile, his eyes crinkling as Lucy wound around Tonks’s legs.

Jimmy whistled and Lucy leapt away from Tonks with a happy bark. Tonks stepped closer to Snape and without a thought she put her arm around his waist, and he put his arm around her shoulders, still carrying her boots and shawl in his other hand.

“Lovely to meet you both.” And with that Jimmy picked up a piece of driftwood and threw it along the shore for Lucy.

“You, too,” said Tonks, with a small smile. Snape said his own farewell, and then Jimmy was walking away.

Tonks and Snape didn’t move, instead standing close until Tonks shivered again, and with a nudge on her shoulder, Snape started walking.

“Selkies,” he murmured, leaning closer, “are trapped—kept against their will.”

“Romantic, isn’t it.” She sighed. “I’m a creature, dangerous according to the Ministry, and even Muggles notice there’s something different about me.”

“They think we’re tourists,” he said. “They’re going to tell stories they think will entertain.”

“Newlyweds,” she countered.

“You’re a witch,” he said, ignoring their marital status. “Who yes, is also a metamorphmagus.”

“People used to try and make me change into who they wanted,” she said, so quietly that her words were almost lost as the waves crashed against the shore. The skies were changing. The bright blue beginning to give way to grey clouds. “You know people used to think creatures of the sea didn’t have a soul unless they married a man, and if he was unfaithful, he’d die as if he’d been cursed.” She still remembered the stomach churning horror of Professor Binns giving a lecture on sea creatures and how her classmates had laughed. “Death Eaters aren’t considered creatures.”

He paused and when she came to a halt, she turned to face him, and found herself nearly against him. He searched her eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“That I have sand in some very uncomfortable places.” She started to walk again, content to be barefoot on the way back to the cottage. “Come on, I need to shower.”

“This marriage business gets more dangerous.”

“You wouldn’t want it,” she said, with the smallest empty laugh.

“I haven’t allowed myself to think of it,” he said. “We’ve always been at war.” They held onto each other more tightly as they walked up a stretch of shore covered in stones. “Would you?”

“Apparently I am.”

There was a disgruntled looking owl waiting on the garden gate. Tonks took the letter from its leg and offered to get treats, but the owl shot her a look of disgust and flew off. Tonks took Snape’s hand as they crossed the boundary of the wards and once they were inside, she trailed sand as far as the kitchen before unrolling the parchment.

“Moody,” she said, glancing up at Snape before returning her attention to the letter. She gave an empty laugh. “He thinks the leak came from St Mungo’s.”

“The news would have found a way out eventually,” said Snape. Tonks arched a brow and he shrugged. “The Ministry will be in chaos still and my absence is, it appears, notable. It wouldn’t have taken much digging and cross-referencing of information to find out there was an Auror missing who wasn’t presumed dead.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” 

“No,” he said. “I was a spy for almost twenty years, I had to think this way.” She nodded and smiled, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She put the parchment on the table and headed to the shower. 

  
  


**4.38pm**

Tonks disappeared and reappeared amidst the laundry on the washing lines. The threat of rain was increasing with the grey clouds which deepened in colour with each passing minute. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she was sure most of the beach had gone down the drain, and despite body wash and shampoo, she was convinced she smelled of wet dog.

Snape grabbed the washing line and held it still while Tonks unpegged the clothes.

“You’re not a creature,” he said.

“The Ministry still wants to have a register of all metamorphmagi,” she said. “I saw it in the Daily Prophet before I—before I set it on fire.” She threw the dry clothes into the laundry basket at her feet. “All those anxieties after the war, you know.”

“Kingsley won’t let that legislation through,” said Snape. “He’s not the only one who wants to reform the Ministry.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, fixing him with her gaze.

All the laundry off the line, Snape let go and Tonks watched him absentmindedly scratch his left forearm. Drizzle began to fill the air around them and the breeze picked up.

“People want to track me as much as they want to track you.” She wanted to close the distance and have him put his arms around her. She turned away and picked up the laundry basket.

“I know,” he conceded.

  
  


**May 24th Sunday**

**2am**

A crack of thunder woke Tonks and as she caught her breath, she realised she was alone in bed and pushed the sheets back. Getting up, she adjusted her pyjamas, wriggling to get them comfortable again after a night of tossing and turning. After a night of ending up in Snape’s arms again when nightmares found her.

As she padded out of the bedroom, Tonks flinched when another flash of lightning cut through the dark and a rumble of thunder ripped through the rain hammering against the cottage. Snape was standing just inside the open doorway, hands in his pockets. He didn’t hear her until she was beside him. He glanced at her as a bolt of lightning over the sea illuminated them for a brief moment before plunging them back into darkness.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“The storm woke me up.” She was about to cross her arms but she reached out and touched his bare shoulder. “What’s wrong?” His bitter laugh startled her. 

“I am unsure as to what the rules are.”

“Rules for what?”

“You will take my hand when magic is strong and when other people are around,” he said. “You permit me to comfort you when you have nightmares.” His gaze wandered over her then he looked back out across the sea. “You want to sleep by me but you’re gone by daybreak.”

“It hurts.” 

“I’m sorry to have caused you such pain,” he said. “Do you need me back in bed or may I stay here a while longer?”

Tonks turned and walked back to bed without a word.

  
  


**2.45am**

She was lying too still when he got into bed.

He murmured her name and she moved to face him. Another flash of lightning filled the room, followed swiftly by a rumble of thunder. His dark eyes were watching her as she ducked her head and brought his arm around her.

She pulled up the blankets and closed her eyes as the storm raged around them. He stroked her back and she relaxed into his hold. He didn’t care. He would take this.

  
  
  
  


**May 25th Monday**

**9.58am**

The Daily Prophet owl caught Snape off guard and the mug lay shattered on the floor. Tonks dealt with the paper, and the owl flew away after being given a treat. Snape leant against the counter, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge.

“I can’t even do a Reparo,” he said. His eyes flashed to her and she walked closer, careful of the shards of pottery between them. 

“Do you think you’re recovering?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at the broken mug. “Cast a Reparo.”

Tonks pulled her wand from the holster beneath her top, still unable to let go of the need to have it with her everywhere.

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip and didn’t raise her wand.

“Do it.”

“Reparo.”

The mug reformed and he fell to the floor, his back against the cupboards, eyes closed as he hissed in pain. “Get out.”

She hesitated for a moment then left the cottage. He’d lost magic, lost his life’s work, and he was going to lose her, too. He closed his eyes, seething with pain as he stood up and put the mug on the counter. He’d already lost her. Walking stiffly, he made it to the door, his head throbbing as much as his body. At least he hadn’t lost consciousness this time, but then, a Reparo was small magic.

She heard him approaching and turned to look at him when he stopped beside her.

“Mind if I join you?” 

She patted the ground beside her. “I’m sorry.” 

“I asked you to do it.” He lowered himself gingerly to the ground

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You must have hit your back hard against the cabinets.”

“I’m fine.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Look, then.” 

Tonks got onto her knees and crawled around to kneel behind him. She lifted the soft cotton of his top and ran her fingers over his back. There were red marks but no wounds.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No.” 

She didn’t take her hands from him immediately, instead tracing down his back as her breathing sped up. 

Memories twisted sharply in him, her fingers digging into his back, her moans getting louder as she increased the pressure. She took her hands from him and pulled his top down, smoothing the cotton before standing up. 

“I’m going to shower,” she said, as she walked away. She didn’t wait for a reply and all but ran to the sanctuary of the Silenced bathroom.

He rubbed his forehead, the ache unrelenting, and caught sight of a pile of daisies where she had been sitting, a handful of them already threaded together. He picked up the abandoned chain and brushed his thumb across one of the flowers before putting it back down in the grass.

  
  
  
  


**May 26th Tuesday**

**4.10pm**

“Three are no lie,” said Tonks, not looking up from the Daily Prophet crossword. She was on the sofa, the newspaper propped up on her lap with a cushion.

Snape put his book down and looked at her.

“You’re still doing that?” he said.

“That’s not helping,” she protested. “It’s a potions special and you’re holding out on me.”

“You got the other ones.”

She snorted. “I’ve figured out two.” She crossed out an idea for another answer and the cauldron in the photo above the crossword continued to bubble. “Don’t be mean.”

“Veritaserum?” he suggested. “Three drops.”

“I should have thought of that.” She counted the boxes for the clue. “Doesn’t fit, it’s too big.”

“How many letters?”

“Ten.” She looked up expectantly.

“Amortentia.” He picked up his book again. “Three aromas.”

“Excellent!” She grinned and filled in the answer before bringing the pen back to her mouth where she gently bit the end as she glanced at him.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Sorry, no, of course not.”

He stared at the page in front of him but all he saw was the cauldron in Slughorn’s classroom. Snape needed to speak with him due to new plans of Voldemort’s, and Slughorn had been showing the small class of sixth years Amortentia as was his tradition. Snape was unsure if his encounter with the Amortentia had been a source of comfort or torture over the past year. He glanced at Tonks who was biting her lip and watching him. He sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “What’s the next clue?”

She smiled and looked back at the paper.

“It’s twelve letters,” she said. “Six golden months?”

“Felix Felicis,” he said. She squealed with delight and wrote the letters in the grid. She was more intoxicating than the strongest Amortentia could hope to be. He smiled in spite of himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**May 27th Wednesday**

**10.23am**

Tonks and the Daily Prophet owl both made screeching noises when Tonks turned around in the kitchen looking for a plate only to be met with an owl flying towards her. The owl flapped its wings and settled on the back of a chair but not before making more disgruntled noises at Tonks. The breadknife still in her hand, Tonks was swearing and wincing as she craned her neck to see the cut on her shoulder. 

Snape grabbed a dishcloth and pressed it to Tonks’s arm.

“Put the knife down,” he suggested. Tonks nodded and while Snape kept the cloth around her arm, she stretched and threw the knife into the sink. “Hold this.”

“Thanks,” she said, wincing again when the pressure changed and the cloth moved against the cut as she put her hand where his had been a moment before.

He went to the owl and retrieved the Daily Prophet, then fetched a treat which the owl snatched before flying away. He turned back to Tonks.

“How?” he said, in disbelief as he batted her hand away and lifted the cloth to see properly the extent of the cut.

“That’s my middle name.” She laughed then swore as he pressed the cloth to her arm again, their hands brushing against each other as she put her hand where his had been a moment before.

“What is your middle name?”

“No,” she said. “It makes Nymphadora look normal.”

He laughed and leant against the counter, arms crossed. “It’s not a mortal wound, but you are going to need a bandage of some kind.”

“There’s a Muggle travel kit in the holdall,” said Tonks, nodding her head towards the sofa. “It’s a big blue bag with the Ministry seal on it. There are first aid supplies inside.”

She bit her lip and fidgeted as she watched him retrieve the bag. She had her wand, she could have healed the cut in moments, and instead she was trying to remember every swear word she knew as she kept the pressure on her arm. Big wounds needed different care but these kinds of injuries weren’t meant to be more than a brief inconvenience. She was a highly skilled Auror and she was injured because an owl gave her a fright. This was one war wound she wouldn’t be talking about when she returned. Returning, how could it seem both so far away and yet just out of reach?

“Tonks?”

“Mmn?” She blinked and looked at him. He was watching her, a slight smile playing on his lips. 

“Your arm,” he reminded her. “Unless you had another method in mind for helping it heal?”

“Right, yes,” she mumbled.

She padded over to the sofa. War wounds—all Aurors had them—but they fought on. They cast basic healing charms and kept going. An encounter with an owl required her to sit down. 

Snape went through the travel kit and quickly found antiseptic wipes. The Ministry’s intention was to equip Aurors for all eventualities, and Tonks’s cheeks began to burn when she spotted the small black box. The box was beside the bandages which Snape was still looking for after getting distracted by a range of medicines. She knew he was comparing them unfavourably to potions. Then he picked up the box, turned it in his hand, and smiled before putting it back and taking out the bandages.

“It’s the big kit,” she blurted out. “The standard one for Muggle cases.”

He arched a brow and his low laugh did something to her which felt like an utter betrayal by her body.

“It’s strange the things which can make one grateful for magic,” he said, as he opened the pack of antiseptic wipes and took one out.

He nudged her hand and she shot him a glance, her cheeks reddening further when he smirked. She lifted the cloth from her arm and he cleaned the small wound.

“You know what they are?” she said, her attempt at delicacy falling by the wayside as she all but squeaked. She was an Auror. She fought Dark Wizards. She could manage this conversation. Chewing her lip, she looked at him from beneath her lashes.

“Yes,” he said, laughing. He pressed another wipe to the cut. “You’re an Auror, and this is what makes you squirm?”

“Apparently,” she mumbled, as she leaned forward and ducked her head against the arm he wasn’t tending to.

“You surprise me,” he said, softly. He held her arm in one hand while he retrieved a self-adhesive bandage with the other. She peeked up at him and he caught her gaze. 

The burn in her cheeks had eased to a bearable heat and with a sniff, she sat up. She looked at her arm as he smoothed the bandage across her skin before letting go. He took the dishcloth and rubbish through to the kitchen while Tonks put the travel kit away. When he came back to the sofa he was rubbing his face.

“You okay?” she asked.

“It’s the owls, I think,” he said, sitting down beside her. “A lot of magic at once.”

“We could have a late breakfast?” she suggested. “My appetite has taken something of a turn.”

“Indeed.” He leant back and closed his eyes, rubbing his face again before sighing. “If it’s not an inconvenience, a late breakfast may be simpler.”

Sleep took him within moments. She watched his breathing slow and his body sink further against the sofa. After a moment of hesitation, she moved to lean against the cushions at the other end. She was half asleep when she tried to get comfortable, not thinking of how she was stretching her legs out over his lap. She forced herself to open her eyes when she felt his hand on her legs but was too tired to make more of it and drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  
  


**May 28th Thursday**

**2.43pm**

“Let’s go this way,” said Tonks, leading Snape along a track they hadn’t walked before.

There were the remnants of a path, seen only by the difference in how the grasses and plants grew. He paused to crouch down and look at a small flower. She squeezed his hand gently and he stood up.

“Unusual plant,” he said, upon seeing her curious expression. “Hard to find in apothecaries.” 

  
  


**3.26pm**

Their walk carried on with intermittent pauses to observe plants and wildlife. She could see him settling back into his place of academic comfort, and she knew when they returned to the cottage, he would likely go straight to the journals Moody had sent at his request.

The path had all but disappeared into the wildflowers and grass when they came to a small area surrounded by a dry stone wall. Tonks’s grip on Snape became ironclad. The tiny graveyard was being taken over by plants, and some of the stones were barely visible beneath climbing vines and shrubs. Others were covered in moss but the engravings remained legible.

“Oh, Merlin,” she whispered.

She thought she might throw up. Her hand flew to her mouth and she turned to him, letting his hand go so she could put her arms around his neck. He held her close and stroked her back as her breaths came in choking gasps.

“I know,” he said, quietly, and she began to cry.

Heaving sobs and the desire to curl up overwhelmed her, but she leant against him, her cheeks damp with tears being chilled by the breeze. A big gust caused her shawl to billow around her and she scrabbled to pull it close again. She froze, staring at him with bloodshot eyes as she tried to suppress the hiccoughing cries.

“Tonks,” he murmured, holding out his hand.

She stepped back into his embrace, the shawl tight around her shoulders, and her hands on his body. Her fingers tugged on the collar of his top and she rested her head against his.

“Can we go home?” she said, her voice rough from crying and so quiet as to almost be lost amidst the breeze racing through the tall grasses. The pain cut deeper as she considered that the cottage was the closest thing to a home she had known for too long.

“Of course.”

He put his arm around her shoulders, she put her arm around his waist, and they began to walk back towards the cottage. Tonks stumbled twice and both times Snape caught her, she leaned against him, and they carried on walking in a silence interrupted only by Tonks’s intermittent sniffing and juddering sighs. 

The front door unlocked, Tonks risked putting her other arm around him, knowing the closeness would disappear as soon as they went indoors. He stroked her back and she wanted little more than to go to bed and curl up beside him, to sleep off the worst edges of grief, safe in his arms. She stepped back and opened the door. Boots off and drinks made, they sat on opposite sides of the room and read books, each sentence taking an age to make sense while their thoughts wandered to the other.

  
  
  
  


**May 29th Friday**

**2.12am**

The nightmare fell away and she grasped his arms, pausing as her breath caught. She swallowed then another sob escaped her. She let her hands drift up his arms and moved closer.

“It feels like it’s never going to stop,” she said, in a harsh whisper. “We won, Merlin, but we lost so much, too.”

“Some things will always stay with you, no matter what else happens.”

There was little light to see by, but she reached up and hesitated for a moment before putting her hand on his cheek.

He sighed, then said, “You have to learn to live with them while your life carries on.”

He rested his forehead against hers as she brushed her thumb across his cheek.

  
  


**2.35am**

Her hand became heavier with sleep and slipped down to his body. He sighed and gave in to tiredness.

  
  
  
  


**May 30th Saturday**

**11.58am**

The front door and the windows throughout the cottage were open, and the sea breeze slipped through along with the squawking of the seagulls. Tonks ignored Snape’s laughter when she curled up with the blanket while she read. 

Some glances managed to be more covert than others and the morning passed in a slow progression of tea and books.

Snape was flipping back and forth between different journals and Tonks recognised his expression as being the one which meant he was researching. She would sit in bed, ignoring his complaints about crumbs from her toast and marmalade, while he pulled different books from the shelves. Sometimes he would go through to another room before returning with an armful of books that would join the stacks already on the bed. Some of the books were a field of stray pieces of parchment, others were left open and Tonks would pull them closer, making a show of holding her toast away from them.

Tonks was almost finished with the dog eared paperback which she returned to in between reading other books. Snape watched the way she held the next page ready to turn before she had even finished it. The way she would change position after two chapters or, he suspected, three. Sometimes she would bite her thumb for half a page. He used to be able to tell where she was in a book by the proximity of her hand to her mouth. Biting her thumb, her finger lingering on her lip, the back of her hand against her mouth. Then the smack of her hand against her leg, followed by her brow furrowing as she tilted her head when there was something which perplexed her. It was always more entertaining when she had a mug of tea or coffee to hand.

  
  
  
  


**June 1st Monday**

**4.57pm**

The brewing storm clouds outpaced them and the cottage wasn’t even in sight when the rain started. The storm didn’t give them the grace of being eased into a downpour. They were pelted with rain and Tonks dragged Snape into the crowded pub, desperate to get out of the deluge, even though the cottage was in sight.

There was a cry of, “Hello!” from behind the bar. “You’re not the only ones trying to escape the rain.”

Tonks smiled at the woman behind the bar and shivered. “We weren’t expecting it to get so bad.”

The afternoon had been warm and she hadn’t thought to put on an extra layer, so in shorts and a t-shirt she was quickly sodden. She started to walk further into the pub when she slipped and Snape grabbed her.

“The selkie!” said an older man. “Still trying to master being on land, eh?”

“Don’t mind Alistair,” said the woman. “I’m Heather, the landlady.”

“I’m Tonks,” said Tonks, and she was met by amused chuckles from the other patrons.

“What did you say your name was, lass?” said Alistair.

“It’s a nickname which stuck,” said Snape, and Tonks flashed him a grateful smile as she failed to suppress another shiver.

“Go sit by the fire, love,” said Heather. “You’ll soon warm up.”

“Thank you,” said Tonks.

She held on tight to Snape and moved towards the crackling fire. There was one big armchair by the hearth and when Tonks glanced around, she blushed, realising just how many people were taking shelter from the storm. Snape sat down and pulled her onto his lap. She leant against him and pulled her shawl close, her back to the fire, his arms around her in a gentle embrace. She fiddled with the cuff of the fleece he was wearing.

Coming in from the storm with its heady mix of earth and rain, they were greeted by woodsmoke, and he was sure he could smell coffee, too. He would have thought he was imagining her, if it wasn’t for the rain dripping from her hair onto his hand and the small shivers still running through her.

“You must be the newlyweds,” said Heather. “Morag told me you were staying in the old cottage.”

“Yes,” said Tonks, smiling, “it’s beautiful.”

Snape stroked her thigh, the smallest movement of his hand on her and she leant more heavily against him.

“How long have you been married?” asked Heather.

“A few weeks,” said Tonks. “It still feels a little strange.”

At Snape’s low laugh, she looked at him and smiled.

The interrogation about their wedding continued and Tonks did her best to deflect and evade, and when all else failed, she made it up as she went along. Snape murmured his agreement when she spoke about the castle in the Highlands where they’d been married. A private residence, she added. A sentimental place. 

Alistair was in the midst of reminiscing about the small weddings the village used to hold—old traditions and old stories—when Snape leaned closer and lips by Tonks’s ear asked quietly, “Are you okay?”

She turned her head towards him. “I can manage pub gossip,” she whispered. “You?”

“Tired,” he admitted.

“Come on,” said Tonks, at an ordinary volume, standing up and taking his hand. “We can brave the rain for a bit longer.”

“Going home?” said Heather, when Alistair paused in the latest part of his recollections.

“I think we risk being here all night if we don’t,” said Tonks, summoning a laugh as she led Snape back through the pub, weaving her way around the tables and chairs. 

“You’re not wrong there, lass,” said Heather. 

“Careful with that one, lad,” said Alistair, looking at Snape and grinning. “She’ll be looking to the sea if you’re not careful.”

Tonks glanced at Snape and bit her lip.

“No, she’s not to be underestimated,” said Snape.

There was a small ripple of laughter and Tonks ducked her head then opened the door. They stepped out into the summer storm and she shivered, her soaking clothes already cold again. Walking away from the pub, she picked up her pace only to be held back by Snape. She turned to him, her hand going to his body without thinking, the reflex to check he was still breathing.

“You really are tired, aren’t you?” she said.

“Yes.”

Thunder rumbled nearby and they both looked towards the sound, the darkening clouds ushering the afternoon into a false night.

“Come on.”

She realised how much he was struggling when he stumbled as they crossed the wards. She unlocked the front door and once they were inside, he went to the bedroom to get out of his wet clothes. Tonks went to the bathroom to change, and decided to get straight into her pyjamas.

She was making tea for them both when she heard the bedroom door open. Padding across the room, she saw him in his pyjamas and leaning against the doorframe, clothes in one hand, and rubbing his face with the other. The clothes fell from his hand and she ran to him. She slipped her arms around him, her hand was on his back where his top had ridden up, and she could feel how cold he was. His uneven breathing as he shook brought her back to her senses.

“Cold,” he mumbled.

“I know,” she said. “You need to get into bed, try and warm up.”

“Forgive me for my lack of being good company.”

“You can be good company?” At his laugh, she held herself closer to him before the coldness of his body reminded her where she was. “Come on, bed.”

He winced as she led him across the room. She stood in front of him, and when he raised his head and put his hands down, there was the briefest moment of his hand brushing her leg and she stepped closer without thinking. She touched his cheek and his neck.

“You’re freezing,” she muttered.

Her eyes darted around the room then back to him. She left him sitting on the bed, head in his hands, and grabbed his wet clothes. Striding through the cottage, she threw his clothes in the laundry basket and turned off the kettle and lights. On her way back to the bedroom, she grabbed her pillow and blanket, then dug out the rest of the blankets the cottage had to offer.

He did his best to follow what she was doing but ended up lying down. When she got into bed with him, he opened his eyes.

“It’s too early,” he said, quietly.

“I haven’t got anything but basic Muggle remedies, I can’t take you to a Muggle doctor or St Mungo’s, and the best way to warm you up is to get in bed with you, so unless my presence repulses you, I’m going to get in.” She took a deep breath before continuing what was now a rant. “If I get the hot water bottle it might shock you. Look, Aurors are used to getting too cold and this is the simplest way to get warm without using magic and since your magic is compromised, I don’t know what a warming charm would do to you—”

“You do not repulse me.”

“Then you can tolerate me for longer than usual.” She moved closer and arranged the extra blankets on top of the ones already there before lying down next to him. “This will have to do.” She frowned and her mouth twisted in frustration. “Wait.” She wriggled around and got up on her knees beside him, pushing the now heavy piles of blankets off them both. Her fingers were at the edge of his top.

“What are you doing?” His hands were on hers.

Tonks looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “Surely you know this works better when there are no clothes involved?”

“Yes, but—”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

But when she eased his top up he didn’t protest. He propped himself up and she said nothing when he steadied himself with his hand on her waist. She threw the top onto the armchair and hesitated for a moment before tugging at the edge of his pyjama trousers. She had done this before. She could do it one more time. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Her heart pounding, she was grateful that the rumbling thunder would cover the sound of her heart running away, a sound which she was sure would otherwise fill the room. Her fingers on his hips, she tugged at the soft cotton and eased the trousers down when he moved. She climbed off the bed and put the trousers on the chair, then took off her own pyjamas and put them beside his.

She rearranged the blankets which threatened to fall off with the weight of how many she had piled one on top of another, then climbed into bed. She closed her eyes and flinched at a crack of lightning. Then she reached back, found his hand and winced at how cold he still was. Slowly she lay down until she was in his arms, her back against his body, her legs touching his. She wanted to feel his breathing deepen. She wanted to turn around. She wanted to—

“I should have got you a warm drink,” she said. “I can do that.”

“No,” he murmured. “No. This—this is fine.”

She was imagining the echoes of yearning in his voice, she knew she was. It was no different to the memories which still wound through her in the darker moments of the night. The memories of his words, his low voice, his lips brushing her neck when he told her in no uncertain terms things which would lead to them to feel more than fine. She silently thanked Merlin when a crack of lightning covered the moan he elicited from her simply by breathing so close to her neck. Just in time, she stopped her back arching when the ease of familiarity almost overwhelmed her.

The storm raged around them and the cracks of lightning cut through the hammering rain, each flash illuminating the bedroom and distracting them from their efforts to ignore each other.

“You’ll warm up soon,” she remarked.

“Tonks.” 

“Go to sleep.” She continued to make small movements, ostensibly to get more comfortable, and taking far longer than necessary to do so.

“Do you want to?”

She bit her tongue, screwed up her eyes, and traced her foot up his leg for a few inches before forcing herself to stop. She wasn’t so stupid as to ignore that it was an easy opportunity. She had all but handed him the suggestion and didn’t blame him for considering his options.

They had been sharing a bed for two weeks, falling asleep together after her nightmares eased their grip on her, and both of them always wearing pyjamas. The longer she dragged out the time to get comfortable the more he missed how she used to fall asleep with him. Her ease at suggesting she knew how to make sure they had a good night’s sleep. He began to move his hand, wanting to remember what he had fought against recalling for the past year because he hadn’t been able to afford the distraction of her in any way. The curve of her waist, the softness of her stomach, the pressure of his touch which would elicit sounds from her which he barely remembered echoes of.

“You need to warm up,” she choked out, her hand rushing to his. She blinked furiously, realising he didn’t want to hold her.

Tonks went rigid with the next crack of lightning, and was slow to relax against Snape. In the flash of light, he saw the curve of her shoulder and wondered what he had missed over the past year, what changes there had been since his hands were last on her. Her fingers slipped between his, pinning his hand to her, and he realised she didn’t want him touching her anymore than was needed.

She tried to think only of how he was warming up but each thought of him was a desire to turn around. She fought against the pull, the longing to kiss him. Just to press her lips against his. Just to know if the memories were little more than the pressures from war desperate to find something that once was good. She could forgive the past year to remember what came before. Just for a moment.

To press his lips to her neck would have been easy. The sweet spot below her ear which elicited sounds from her that he was unable to resist. To trail kisses along her jaw until she would take his face in her hands, her patience unwilling to be tested further. To kiss her soft lips just one more time because after the chaos of their ending, he was never certain which memory was the last. Just to remember.

**11pm**

Snape was woken up when Tonks stretched against him in her sleep. She curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder. He pulled the blankets up, glad to no longer be shaking, and instead be comfortably warm.

He knew she hadn’t chosen to be there with him, and anyone could miss a warm body to be close to, especially one they already knew. She’d been clear that this was a last resort and he knew the afternoon had rattled her. The interrogation about their marriage evaded with the skills from a lifetime of fielding questions about her family. There had been a glimpse of what the future could have been, but they deviated from the path that that future needed, too long ago. There was nothing left to retrieve. She was doing her work, nothing more. From her, he didn’t expect anything less.

  
  
  
  


**June 2nd Tuesday**

**3.54am**

Tonks stirred and pawed her eyes, the hours in bed leaving her with the feeling like that of a hangover. She was against him, one of her legs between his, and her head had been on his shoulder. Lowering her hand she felt his breathing that of deep sleep. And he was warm again. He might have wanted a night with her and oh how she understood the frustration, but she knew anyone could find something appealing in a bare body they had known before, if only for one night. It wasn’t as if he made any advances when she was in her pyjamas. She was there to work. She knew it could be awkward and still she felt his discomfort when she scrambled to answer questions about their wedding. He was used to living a charade and couldn’t stomach talk of a wedding which never happened. Their wedding. She hadn’t realised how much the idea repulsed him until then.

She eased herself out of the bed and crept across the room to put on her pyjamas, taking several attempts to put the top on properly in the dark. She went back for her pillow and took her blanket from the bed. On the sofa she curled up as tightly as possible. Not much longer and she wouldn’t have the agony of possibilities. She still had to force herself not to go through, undress, and slip back into bed. He wouldn’t have to know she had ever been gone.

The creak of the floorboards as she left the bedroom was enough for him to stir and he knew she was gone. Still he felt the sheets, warm from where she had been moments before. Not even a whole night. She was never going to forgive him. He pulled the blankets up, rolled over, and went back to an uneasy sleep.

  
  
  
  


**June 3rd Wednesday**

**10.42am**

  
  


The second owl followed the Daily Prophet owl by a couple of minutes. Nelly was already in the kitchen. He had no letters or parcels to deliver, but he liked to check in with Tonks from time to time and snaffle a treat after a night of hunting before going to roost.

Tonks took the Daily Prophet from one owl, then the letters from the other. She gave them both treats and Nelly followed them out the door after giving Tonks an affectionate nip.

“I feel like I’m back at the Ministry,” said Tonks, still staring at the door.

She shook her head and gave Snape the Daily Prophet while she looked at the letters, handing one to him and opening the one addressed to her. She glanced at him and saw his letter consisted of several sheets while hers was one page. 

“Moody,” she said, holding hers up.

“Kingsley,” said Snape, folding the parchment and slipping it back in the envelope. “I could do with a walk.”

“Yes.” She put on her boots and slung the shawl around her shoulders. The linen had become cushy over the past weeks and even the slubs in the fabric were familiar comforts when they brushed against her skin. 

They crossed the _machair_ with slow steps, neither eager to go anywhere but likewise not needing to say a word as they drifted towards the beach. Tonks stopped and crouched down, still holding Snape’s hand, about to pull up a small purple flower when she paused. Her fingers around the stem, she brushed her thumb across the flower and stood back up.

“Is there a potion you could have used that in?” she asked.

“There’s little that can’t be used in some way.”

The _machair_ had given way to soft white sand and when Tonks stumbled, Snape grabbed her and she fell into his embrace. She scrunched up her nose when her hair fell across her face. He reached up and swept the loose strands back.

“I might be safer just sitting down,” she said, with a small laugh. 

They settled on the sand and Tonks leant against Snape. It was almost over and she tried not to think about what she would miss. Instead she wondered how she had lived without being woken by seagulls making a racket and the waves crashing against the shore. How she survived without spending more time by the water, not even to swim, but to tiptoe towards the shore and run back again, the sand giving way beneath her feet as the sea gave chase. 

“Moody will be coming to give me my official debrief on Saturday,” she said, eventually. “I’m to stay until then.”

“Kingsley will be joining him,” said Snape. “Draco has been cleared of all charges.”

Tonks’s hands flew to her face and Snape stroked her back.

“I barely know him,” she choked out.

“He’s still family,” said Snape.

“He was a child,” said Tonks.

“I know.”

He took his hand from her and she looked at him.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I was of age when I joined, Tonks. You know that.”

She nodded.

“The Wizengamot have been persuaded not to press charges and they look forward to my continued cooperation with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

She turned to hug him, and in her desperation to get her arms around him, she ended up straddling him. Slowly he put his arms around her.

“Merlin,” she whispered. “Oh, Merlin.”

Her arms were tight around his neck and she had to stop herself pressing her lips to his jaw. He wasn’t going to Azkaban. She stilled. He didn’t need a guard. It wouldn’t be official until the weekend, but her debrief didn’t mean someone else taking over, it meant he wasn’t a risk to be guarded. She pulled back a fraction and they were eye to eye.

“That’s—that’s really good,” she said, biting her lip when her eyes darted to his mouth.

“Yes.” His hands drifted from her to the sand. “A healer will be coming with Kingsley and Moody, too.”

“Do you know who did it?” she asked, as she climbed gingerly off him, avoiding his gaze.

“The Dark Lord,” he said. “Aside from killing me, he knew the greatest punishment he could impose for my betrayal would be to leave me alive but without magic. Back in everything I sought to escape.”

“What about your research?”

“The books Moody has been able to provide suggest the possibility of answers but—”

“The ones with actual answers are restricted.”

“Quite.” He sighed. “The Ministry wouldn’t want me having information like that while I was under investigation, and I wasn’t going to push Moody.”

“Asking for trouble?”

“Something like that.”

Tonks took her shawl off and shook it out before hugging it to herself, the soft bundle big enough that she could rest her chin on it.

“Do you think you’re getting better?” she asked.

“Does it matter to you?”

“Don’t,” she murmured. “Please don’t be like this.”

“What about your injuries? You can’t have made it through the war without getting hurt.”

She looked at him. “Does it matter to you?” she shot back.

She took off her boots and socks, shoving the socks inside the boots. She balled up the shawl, stuck it beneath her boots, and leapt up. She loped towards the water and stood on the sand where the waves touched the shore. She swept her hair from her face and sniffed, her hands drifting to the back of her neck. Her holster moved and her wand dug into her. She stumbled backwards, the incoming wave toppling what was left of her balance and she fell onto the sand, the water coming up over her legs. The sea nudged her hands up and down. She ran her fingers through her hair, not caring about the salt water and sand. She didn’t hear him walking down the beach and it was only by his shadow that she knew he was there. He held his hand out and she reached up, the sunlight bouncing off her wedding ring. He didn’t flinch at her touch. She got to her feet and realised he didn’t have her things. She looked up the beach and saw the pile of her boots and the shawl. She let him lead her away from the water’s edge.

“Is it really over?” she asked.

His bitter laugh coursed through her but she didn’t let go. “The Dark Lord is gone, his Death Eaters have been killed, imprisoned, or will remain at the mercy of the Ministry.” His dark eyes searched hers. “Does that satisfy you?”

She tried to hold on tighter but her grasp faltered. “I—”

“It’s over”

He walked back along the beach, picked up her boots and shawl, and waited for her. She picked her way across the sand and without looking at him, took his hand. He didn’t hesitate in holding hers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations by both artists are on Tumblr, too, and can be found with links via [the Tumblr Masterpost](https://marshmallowmcgonagall.tumblr.com/post/616611783731560448/the-selkie-and-the-cursed-prince).

**June 4th Thursday**

**10.25am**

When the Daily Prophet arrived Tonks was quick to take the newspaper from the owl. Snape put his book down and when Tonk wandered over to the sofa, already unrolling the paper and trying to read it, he joined her. When she curled up, it was to lean against him and he put his arm around her shoulders. Days. Days left with her and all they did was swing between not saying a word to each other and finding themselves closer than ever. 

The Daily Prophet had used a different photo of him, still one from Hogwarts, but not taken during Voldemort’s reign. Tonks’s photo was the same official portrait of her in her Auror robes, with every suggestion in the way she held herself that she had just come from a fight she had won.

The paper confirmed his exoneration. The news about his association with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement hidden amongst other snippets. And still there were question marks around Tonks’s involvement. A source within the Ministry confirmed her disappearance was due to guarding Snape. A statement from Moody was notably free of expletives though not his ire as he neither confirmed nor denied any of the allegations. He acknowledged that Tonks was back working as an Auror and that he trusted his entire team.

Tonks was about to turn the page when she glanced at Snape and he nodded. She searched until she found the subsequent column inches about them both. Whoever did the reporting declined to have their name on the byline but in amongst all the baseless suggestions, there were enough truths for Tonks to know they really did have a source in the Ministry.

“They got my kill number wrong,” she said, pushing the paper towards him and resting her head on his shoulder.

  
  
  
  


**June 5th Friday**

**1.56pm**

“You and your husband should come along to the ceilidh tonight,” said Morag, as she packed the groceries into bags. At Tonk s’s  confusion, Morag added, “A dance, dear, a chance for everyone in the village to get together. Up at the wee hall behind the pub, nothing fancy, just come as you are.”

Tonks glanced at Snape who arched a brow.

“Well I would like to dance,” she said. “What time?”

“Oh, we don’t time these things,” said Morag, chuckling, “but come sometime around mid-evening and you’ll hear the music going. Jimmy and a few of the others provide the entertainment.”

“We’ll be there,” said Tonks.

“A dance?” said Snape, once they were away from the shop.

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “I can’t remember when I last did something just for fun.”

“War has a habit of doing that.”

“You don’t need to dance. You can fend off questions about us for once.”

“You’re too kind.”

She wanted to smile, she wanted to laugh, but she bit her lip as the corner of her mouth pulled up. She didn’t know why there was the hint of burning, the kind which preempted tears.

  
  


**9pm**

Tonks walked out of the bathroom and did everything she could to avoid looking at Snape for as long as possible. She had been ignoring the sundress and flats packed at the bottom of the holdall since she found them a few days after they arrived. She grabbed the keys and joined him at the door before crossing the room again and picking up her shawl.

The door locked, she gave him the keys when she realised the dress had no pockets. Her wand was in the holster on her body and she wriggled as she moved the straps beneath the dress. She reached for his hand and she had to pull her shawl up when it slid down her bare arm. 

They walked through the village, and in the gloaming, the sea looked like a cauldron of Felix Felicis. Birds were little more than dark shapes cutting through the sky. 

The flats would be better for dancing but they weren’t as good as hiking boots for picking across the old track. Tonks tripped on loose stones and Snape caught her. Tonks glowed in the last of the light from the setting sun and he had to look away. 

Fiddles and accordions and the cheers of the villagers led them to the ceilidh. Lanterns lit the path once they got closer, and warm light flooded out of the door of the hall. Tonks led Snape inside.

“The selkie and her husband!” said Jimmy.

“Oh, stop it,” said Heather, smiling as she pushed Jimmy’s shoulder before looking back at Tonks and Snape. “Morag said she invited you both. Are you going to dance?”

“I’d love to,” said Tonks. She turned to Snape. “Are you going to sit this one out?”

“Along with all the others,” he said. “Go have fun.”

She squeezed his hand and let go.

“Hamish!” called Heather, and one of the younger men from the village emerged from between the dancing crowd to sidle up beside her. “This young lady here needs a dance partner.”

Hamish laughed and held out his hand. “Come on, then.”

Tonks felt her cheeks getting warm but was happy to take the man’s hand and be led into the crowd, though not before she pulled her shawl from her shoulders and handed it to Snape.

Snape talked with the other villagers who didn’t dance at all or were in the midst of breaks. He made sure to guide conversations away from anything that would tie Tonks or him down. And all the time his gaze did little to drift from her. She danced with different people, twirling and skipping in time with the music. Rosy cheeked, she laughed with abandon when moves went awry and she and her partner had to find their place again. She soon picked up the dances and seemed at complete ease with the music, clapping when songs ended and hugging partners each time a dance finished.

Tonks managed to lose herself almost entirely in the music and the dancing. Except for when she saw him. In fleeting glances caught in the midst of spins, her smiles still courted everyone, but she thought of different hands on her, a different body with each turn.

  
  


**11.30pm**

Jimmy held up his hands when the song finished and the clapping faded, the surrounding talk softening to murmurs. Tonks glanced around and saw Snape watching her. She smiled and turned back to Jimmy.

“A few announcements,” he said. “A cheer, please, for Morag who is about to become a grandmother again.” There were whoops of delights and clapping. Jimmy held his hands up again. “Jack is still pretending he isn’t about to turn forty, but we still need ideas for his surprise party, so answers on a postcard before next weekend.” There was a loud groan from the other side of the room followed by a ripple of laughter. “Heather, my beautiful Heather, everyone give her your congratulations for finally replacing that bloody awful rustbucket she’s been driving.” There were hollers and clapping, and Jimmy had to shout for quiet. “And of course we can’t forget our newlyweds who very kindly spent their evening with us all and not just each other.” People stepped back from Tonks and clapped as she looked at Snape and smiled widely, the blush in her cheeks still a deep red. Snape smiled at her. “Take him home, lass, you only get to be newlyweds once.”

“In theory,” piped up someone.

“Look, we can’t all have as many husbands as Margaret,” said Jimmy.

There was more laughter and Tonks bit her lip as she watched Snape. She knew that look painfully well. The one which meant it was her choice. His half smile was doing more to her than any of the dances had. The laughter increased and there were cheers as she walked towards him, her steps almost skipping, until she was standing in front of him. He hadn’t looked away from her. She took his hand, and still biting her lip, grinned as she led him outside. There were whistles and another roar of laughter. She didn’t look back but ducked her head as the music started up again and wound through the darkness to join them along the lantern lit path. 

The night’s dancing still had her under an enchantment, and beneath the clear starlit night they walked arms outstretched as she bounced gently, small squeals of delight giving way to content sighs as she roamed and picked her way, skipping, across the ground.

He came to a halt and at the tug on her arm when she moved and he didn’t, she loped towards him with a giddy smile and stopped just inches from him. He wanted to stroke her cheek, brush his thumb across her lips, but he was holding her shawl and he didn’t want to break the spell.

“Severus?”

He would take that: his name on her smiling lips.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

“Tired?” She tilted her head and reached out, her hand on his body, still unable to shake the reflex to check his breathing.

“Yes.”

“We’re almost home,” she said, her smile softening. She slipped her around his waist, and he put his arm around her shoulders. 

In the cottage, lamps turned on, Tonks went straight to the sink to fill up a glass then downed the water. She gasped in relief and rubbed her face. 

“The dancing was brilliant,” she said, fetching her pyjamas on the way to the bathroom, “but there’s no way I’m going to bed without showering.”

The bathroom door closed behind her and on his way to the bedroom he put her shawl on the sofa, pausing to look at the grey bundle before walking away.

Tonks turned off the lamps and padded hesitantly to the bedroom with her pillow in hand. The door was open and the room dark. She got into bed, uncertain as to whether he was asleep or not as he lay with his back to her. One last night and he didn’t want to be near her. He sighed and she stiffened. He moved onto his back and turned to look at her.

“I’m sorry, I—” she said.

“There’s just tonight.” He reached out and stroked her stomach.

The brief touch ignited not only the past month but the past year. He lifted his hand from her and she moved closer. He put his arm around her and she shot him a glance she wasn’t sure he would even see before she rested her head on his shoulder.

One last night and it had taken all this time to be comfortable. There wouldn’t be anything more and the regret he felt was knowing how sleep clawed at him when he wanted to commit to memory the way she wrapped herself around him as sleep took her, though as he listened to her breathing, sleep took him before he could wonder that she still sounded like she was awake.

  
  
  
  


**June 6th Saturday**

**11.46am**

Neither Tonks nor Snape said anything about how she bolted from the bed with her pillow hours later than usual and curled up on the sofa while he stayed in bed longer than he needed to. They had a routine, and their last day together didn’t seem like a good time to change things.

Tonks sat on the dry stone wall and waited for Moody, Kingsley, and the healer to arrive. When the car approached, obvious by Moody’s driving, Tonks stood and waved like she was welcoming a boat into the harbour. When Kingsley got out of the car, he leant against the door and looked up at the sky, muttering words she couldn’t hear. Moody slammed his door shut and stomped towards her, and Madam Pomfrey got out of the back of the car. 

“Madam Pomfrey!” said Tonks, cutting her hug short with Moody and running the couple of steps to hug the Hogwarts healer. 

“Tonks,” said Madam Pomfrey, “you’re looking well.”

“You, too,” said Tonks, hugging Madam Pomfrey close again before giving Kingsley a hug and a promise of a mug of tea. 

Tonks went indoors, shooting a glance and the smallest of smiles at Snape, then put on the kettle and brought out mugs. He greeted Moody, Madam Pomfrey, and Kingsley, laughing at Kingsley’s tale of their trip. Driving holidays didn’t appear to be in Kingsley and Moody’s future.

The mugs of tea made, they stood awkwardly for only a moment before Tonks excused herself.

“What about your debrief?” asked Madam Pomfrey.

Tonks and Kingsley snorted, and Snape smiled. Moody rolled both eyes.

“You’ve done your work well, lass,” said Moody. “You can go home today.” He looked at Madam Pomfrey. “Happy?”

“That’s what passes for an official debrief?” said Madam Pomfrey.

“That was the extended version,” said Tonks, with a smile as she stepped outside.

They watched her walk through the garden then they all sat down, bringing one of the kitchen chairs into the living area for Moody. As he sat down, Snape noticed Tonks’s shawl still bundled up on the end of the sofa.

  
  


**1.34pm**

Tonks was lying back on the grass when a shadow came over her and she opened her eyes. Kingsley was looking down at her.

“This would be easier if you were standing up,” he said.

Tonks clambered up, empty mug in hand, brushing grass and flowers from her shorts and t-shirt.

“Hand,” he said.

Tonks held out her left hand and with a tap of Kingsley’s wand on the ring, she knew the tracking charm had been lifted.

“Madam Pomfrey’s made her assessment but nonetheless she wants you to lift the wards while she’s here.”

Tonks glanced towards the cottage, unable to see inside because of the glare on the windows. Raising her wand, she made the necessary movements and the wards were lifted.

“Do you want to leave with us or shall I order you a taxi for later?” asked Kingsley.

Tonks looked at the ground and swept her foot back and forth across the grass where she had been lying. “I still need to pack.” 

“I’ll order a taxi when we get back to the port.”

“Thank you,” she said, quietly.

“How are you?” he asked. “Really?”

“Would you want to be away from the fight?”

“You’re telling me you and Severus have been getting on beautifully?”

“Kingsley,” she muttered. “It’s been a long month.”

“You’ve been missed.”

Tonks pawed at her eyes and Kingsley put his arms around her. He might be interim Minister for Magic, but he was also the one along with Moody, who had trained her, and spent years fighting at her side. She put her free arm around him and he kissed her hair.

“I really do appreciate you not killing him,” he said. Tonks laughed against his robes and Kingsley smiled as he rubbed her back. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“And have Madam Pomfrey fretting over me the whole way?” Tonks shook her head. “I need to pack and then—then I’ll go. Just order a taxi so I can make the next ferry crossing.”

“That’s only a couple of hours,” said Kingsley, softly.

“Why would I need more time?” He might miss her, she knew that, but he had recovered enough to be safe on his own and the Ministry didn’t need her with him anymore. If he missed her, it would be no more than what the occasional dream could satisfy. She knew her departure would be a relief. It hurt, but she had a month to be ready and this was as close as she was going to get.

“You don’t think that he—”

“Kingsley,” she said, her voice catching. “He’s made his feelings clear, I promise you.”

“Owl me if you need more time.”

“I’ve already sent Nelly back to my parents.”

“Tonks.”

“Are there further orders, Sir, or am I to stand down and await commands,” she said, adopting the tone and stance which belonged in the Auror department.

Kingsley waited until Tonks met his gaze. “Stand down.”

She nodded and her eyes were shining. Kingsley put his hand on the back of Tonks’s head and pressed his lips to her forehead. His hand came down so he held her chin.

“You are more than an Auror.” He smiled softly. “And you know this is, albeit unexpectedly, about more than following orders.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Kingsley sighed and pulled Tonks into a hug. She sniffed and held him close.

Moody was watching Tonks and Kingsley from the front door, with Madam Pomfrey beside him, while Snape was in the kitchen.

“Severus—” said Madam Pomfrey, her mouth pursing in concern as he cut her off.

“Just know she remains a competent Auror,” said Snape. 

“I’ve never questioned her as an Auror,” said Moody, still watching Kingsley holding Tonks.

“Then there’s nothing else for you to concern yourself with,” said Snape.

“She isn’t one to give up without a fight,” said Moody.

“But she is one to speak her mind,” said Snape.

Moody snorted and turned back to Snape. “Sure you’ve been listening?”

“I have had little choice but to.” 

“And?” said Madam Pomfrey.

“Don’t,” said Snape. “She can hurl words as well as she hurls hexes.”

“Only when she’s under attack,” said Moody.

“Not another word,” said Snape, as approaching footsteps got louder.

Kingsley and Tonks walked into the tense room and Tonks gravitated towards Snape, only to stop and turn back. Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

“We’ve got a ferry to catch,” said Moody. “Tonks, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yes, of course, yes,” said Tonks, and she gave Moody a hug.

Snape stood back and watched her, ignoring the glances shot his way. She hugged Kingsley and Madam Pomfrey, then they were going back to the car. There were short farewells from Snape who stayed in the doorway while Tonks waved them off from the garden gate. 

The car was out of sight and Tonks still hadn’t moved. She heard footsteps behind her and turned slowly to see him walking towards her. 

“When are you leaving?” he asked.

“Moody’s going to order a taxi for me when they get back to the port,” she said, “and I’ll get the next ferry.”

The distance between them could have been crossed within a step. Tonks walked back into the cottage and started to pack. It took painfully little time to put her things back in the holdall and she was left sitting on the sofa, fiddling with the hem of her shorts. He washed up the mugs and made fresh tea for them both. She didn’t look up until he was standing in front of her, handing her a mug of tea. 

“Thank you,” she said, as he went to sit on the other side of the room. “Moody wouldn’t tell me what you all talked about.” She glanced at him, unsure whether he would give her anything more than what the Daily Prophet reported.

“The Ministry are going to let me stay here,” he said. “They’ll arrange access for my Gringotts accounts through Muggle banking and, in an entirely voluntary decision, I’ll be kept occupied not only by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but by their potions team to review papers.”

“Sounds fun,” said Tonks, weakly.

She sniffed and bit her lip. The floorboards were covered in scratches, the wood stain uneven, and the rug at an odd angle to the lengths of wood. She had bits of dirt on her feet from the garden and she brushed dirt which wasn’t there off her leg. She pawed at her eyes, trying to be subtle, and knowing she had failed entirely.

“How are you?” Her voice caught and she screwed up her eyes, resting her forehead on her hand. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t meant to matter.

“There’s some improvement,” he said, slowly. “But Madam Pomfrey believes it’s going to take a long time.”

“She thinks you might recover?”

“Yes.” 

“That’s good,” she said. “You deserve it.” She winced. “To get better, you deserve to get better.”

“I’m touched that you think so.”

“Please,” she begged.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

She stood up and grabbed the dog eared book which she had yet to finish before going outside with her untouched mug of tea. She didn’t go far into the garden, just enough to find a clearing amongst the wildflowers.

He sunk back in the armchair and rubbed his jaw. It would be over in a few hours. She would be gone and they could carry on their lives without each other. Just the way they had until last month. As if under an enchantment, he stood up and walked towards the window, stopping a few feet away. He watched her look at the book in her lap, the pages going unturned for many more minutes than they should have. The breeze lifted her hair so that it danced around her and she tucked it behind her ear, a moment later the breeze had lifted it again. She put the book face down on the grass, and hugged her legs.

It should have taken longer for the taxi to arrive, but soon it was trundling up the track towards the cottage. Tonks went to the driver’s side and told him she would be a few minutes getting her things, then she went back into the cottage. She did up her boots and picked up the holdall. Snape watched her from the kitchen, then she was hesitating in the doorway.

He looked away and she stepped out of the cottage. 

“Wait,” he said.

She stopped, her heart racing, and took the time his back was turned to wipe her eyes. He came back with the grey bundle. She swallowed and tried to say thank you when he stepped closer and slung the shawl around her shoulders, but the words wouldn’t come. Still holding the linen he hesitated then tied the ends of the shawl in a loose knot.

“I have to leave,” she said, quietly.

“I know.” 

Her hand twitched, ready to reach out, but she flexed her fingers and swept back her hair instead. His arms crossed, he looked at the taxi. The driver was staring out across the sea. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said, her voice rough and her smile a careless imitation of real joy.

“Easy,” he said. “You walk away, get in the taxi, and catch the ferry to the mainland.”

“Yes.” She nodded. Her lips parted, ready to say more, but her voice was gone. Her gaze darted around, then she walked away.

She climbed into the taxi, said her hellos again, and then the car was driving away. She looked out the back window. He was still in the doorway, watching her. Last time, he had been the one who left and without looking back.

When the cottage was out of sight, Tonks sunk down in the back of the car and watched the island pass her by. She thanked Merlin the taxi driver didn’t ask her questions, though she caught him shooting her concerned glances in the rear view mirror. 

The port was busy and Tonks wound her way through the crowd to board the ferry. The clanking of the gangways reverberated through the ground as the exhaust funnels sent smoke into the air. Each boarding car added more noise to the cacophony while shoes caused rippling echoes through the corridors as passengers made their way to the viewing decks. Tonks settled in one of the lounges, doing her best to curl up without getting her boots on the seat. She was beside a window and stared out at the choppy sea. The sun was lost to stretches of grey clouds gathered around the hills. 

Tonks sniffed and wrapped her arms around herself, her hands catching on the shawl. She looked down, her fingers brushing the knot, only to be startled when the ship’s horn blew. She watched the seagulls while the captain made announcements. And then she was sailing away. She held herself tighter, knowing she could Apparate as soon as she was on the mainland but knowing until then she had to maintain cover. Not that anyone would have followed her, she thought.

“Tonks?” 

Tonks looked up, surprised to see Heather walking towards her. Heather sat a couple of seats along from Tonks. 

“Hello,” said Tonks, smiling.

“What are you doing here on your own?” said Heather, her brow furrowing though her smile remained kind.

“Work,” said Tonks, her voice catching.

Heather reached out and patted Tonks’s arm. “I remember when I first had to leave the island and come back to the mainland without Jimmy.” Heather shook her head slowly. “It hurts less with time but it’s never easy to leave your heart.”

“It must have been difficult,” said Tonks, swallowing as she tried to smile and not give in to tears.

“When will you be back?” asked Heather.

  
  


**9.34pm**

The village was busy with cars coming and going all day. Snape could only think it was because of the weekend, but each time a car door slammed, his attention was pulled from the different books he had been trying without success to distract himself with. Still, he kept the front door open, finding some relief in the sea air which drifted lazily through the cottage. When the garden gate creaked, Snape put his book down and went to the door. 

Tonks hesitated when she saw him, then turned to close the gate before walking slowly to the cottage. She stepped inside and tossed the holdall to the ground.

She looked at the floor, crossing her arms and uncrossing them before fiddling with the ends of the shawl which she had untied. The evening sun caught on the wedding ring.

“You’re still wearing the ring?” he asked.

“People might talk if I took it off.” She looked down and turned the band of gold which she took off while she was on the ferry only to slip it back on seconds later. “Kingsley lifted the charm.”

“You can’t live without magic.”

“No,” she agreed. “Not every day.” She felt the sting of tears and screwed up her eyes as she shifted where she stood. “But weekends, I could give up magic for weekends.”

“Tonks—”

“If you wanted me, of course,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She tried to smile and crossed her arms.

“What if I don’t get any better?”

“Would you still be okay with weekends?”

He reached out and took her left hand, brushing his thumb across the ring. “People will talk.”

“What’s new?” The resignation swept away some of the tension. She survived a war. She could survive gossip. “Severus, I—”

“I missed you,” he said, quietly.

“It hurt.” Her smile wobbled but her gaze didn’t falter. The accusation from her lips was worse than any curse. 

“I know.”

A gentle nudge of her hand and she stepped closer. He brushed his thumb across the wedding ring again. Her head tilted and she looked at him curiously.

“Did you know that in some of the stories the selkies came back?” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Catching ferries means a lot of waiting around.” With her free hand, she traced her fingers across his body, lingering on the steady rhythm of his breathing under her touch. “Lots of time to read.”

“Did you finish your book on Dark Magic?” 

She nodded.

“Was he oblivious or cold hearted?”

The question tricked a laugh from her which gave way to a hiccoughing cry. “I don’t think she realised he was just trying to survive.” 

He reached up to sweep her hair from her face. She leaned into his touch and sighed heavily.

“You would always have your freedom,” he said, and she met his gaze. “The Ministry, the Wizengamot, the Daily Prophet, your friends. If it ever became too much to be here, whatever the reason, promise me you’d leave.”

“What if I want to be here?” she said. “What If I want to keep coming back?”

“Tonks—”

She leaned against him and searched his dark eyes. “The difficult times will be difficult whether or not I’m here.” She took a deep breath. “I want to come back.”

“Did you know you were coming back today?”

“No.” She shook her head as the sting of tears overwhelmed her. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?” His hand drifted up through her hair and he brought her closer. “After everything.”

“Because I left my heart here,” she said. “And I didn’t know that was going to happen until I did it.”

“I had to leave,” he said, quietly.

“I know.” Her hand slipped from his grasp and she put her arms around him. “The war is over now, though.”

“It’s over,” he agreed.

“Then—then you can return to me. If you want to.” She smiled. “You have your freedom, too.”

He leaned closer and pressed his lips to the sweet spot below her ear and laughed against her neck when she made the sound he feared he had forgotten. 

“Severus,” she said, her own laugh gentle, “an answer.” She moaned. “Please.”

“We could make it official,” he drawled, then he pulled away looking troubled. “I can’t be wherever you are, Tonks, and I don’t know when or if that will change. But I will be here.”

“What if we did make it official?” she countered.

“Weekends?” 

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Lots of time for walks and dances,” he said, “though I don’t know when the next dance will be.”

“I didn’t cross the sea twice to go for a walk.”

“What did you have in mind, then?”

She pressed her lips to his and knew this was where she wanted to be. He deepened the kiss and held her close. There would be important conversations to have in the morning but she knew in his embrace was where she was meant to be. 

A year of keeping memories held at bay didn’t matter. What returned from the past would be a treasure of its own. But she was in his arms now. He knew this wasn’t going to be the last time, either. And he would wait for her always.


End file.
